


Ringmaster

by johnshuaa, ohcanadaman



Series: The Circle Game [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tension, Unspecified Setting, bad humor disguised as angst, doyoung has a gun how scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-23 00:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 110,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnshuaa/pseuds/johnshuaa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohcanadaman/pseuds/ohcanadaman
Summary: “What’s your name?”Jaehyun’s mouth falls open. Not from the gun pointed directly at his head, but from the lilt of politeness in the Ringmaster’s voice.“Jung Jaehyun…”The Ringmaster’s mouth twists into a smirk, and as he readjusts the gun in his hand, the metal clicks. Jaehyun gulps.“Well, Jung Jaehyun, I’m afraid you have to come with us.”or: reporter Jaehyun gets kidnapped by a circus and is pulled into a world of danger he never expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> after a bajillion years of planning and writing, we're finally getting to publishing, right before school starts.
> 
> you may have seen some mentions of this story on Twitter, and it's been our child for the past year. hope you enjoy!
> 
> working title: everything happens in february

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working chapter title: shawty imma party til the sun down

The trail up to the Circus is simple: just a twist of dirt and rocks, nothing out of the ordinary, maybe even similar to many of the roads around town that Jaehyun knows like the back of his hand. He’s walked up here himself, perhaps as a curious child, when his parents were off at work, or when he left the school campus without a care in the world to explore the little nooks and crannies he’s yet to find. 

So it’s familiar almost, to walk up this hill, small gaggles of families and friends, children and adults of all ages, scampering up alongside him. He finds it may even be odd. He’s hardly ever seen so many people gathered in one night before. 

There are recognizable faces amongst the families, most of which Jaehyun has acquainted himself with over the years, from his parents, from school, from work. He knows everyone, and everyone might as well know him.

But this is new, the Circus, that is. There’s never been another like it. Sure, there have been small fairs and events that the mayor put together to bring some festivity, but it’s always been just that.

Jaehyun has hundreds of newspaper clippings, all dedicated to the Circus, all different takes on the same show, stored in a little box under his desk, away from the prying eyes of his colleagues. This will be _ his _story, the one that makes it big, after all these years of reporting the neighbor’s cat being rescued from the tree again, or the occasional convenience store robbery.

And from those clippings, he’s found two things: first, no one can ever exactly recall the events of the actual show, and second, the Circus never visits the same place twice. That only scares Jaehyun more, because if he misses this one chance, then it’ll all be over. 

The infamous red tent just across the gate looks drab and small, to Jaehyun’s dismay. The red of the cloth seems to be washing off into a dull orange, and there are dirt specks along its base. Underwhelming. 

_ Cirque des Perdus. _ Circus of the Lost, as translated, though rather ironic, considering the increased success it’s been having.

Jaehyun makes his way to the queue, fidgeting with his camera in his bag as he waits. He prays, that if there’s a God above, he’ll get the pictures and the notes he needs to write an article that can get him _ out of this town_.

His job, as one of the few journalists working for the single newspaper publishing company in town, had quickly grown dull and boring . There’s nothing for him to report, and nothing he writes can possibly catch the attention of the town’s own occupants, much less a big city publisher. He’s so sick of how uneventful it is, how uneventful his whole life has been. 

This will be his big break.

The man in the ticket booth is tall, hardly fitting in the box, but it’s his bright smile that blinds Jaehyun. It’s almost comical the way he sits in there, broad shoulders hunched as he reaches around the tiny space to put away money and pass on tickets.

After a little girl and her father receive their tickets, Jaehyun hesitantly steps forward to the booth.

“Well, hello there!” the man says. Jaehyun notices that the man’s head is practically pressed against the top of the booth, flattening his caramel curl of hair. “How many tickets will it be for you today, sir?”

“Just one, please.”

Jaehyun produces a small pouch of coins he has been saving up. The admission isn’t expensive, actually, it’s far from expensive, but it took weeks to decide whether coming to a place that he has only heard of would be worth his time and effort. He places the amount needed into the man’s hand.

The man passes back a small, rectangular ticket, simply decorated with the words, “Admit One” in capital letters. “Here you go. We hope you have a magical time with us today.”

Jaehyun almost freezes at his words, but forces himself to take the ticket. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a circus.” The man winks with a sly smile forming on his lips. “There’s ought to be some things your eyes can’t believe.”

“Oh.”

Jaehyun wills himself to step away before the vendor notices any other odd behavior he manages to exhibit. His hands automatically go to his satchel, where his dear camera and notebook are. _ Magical? _

It must be utter jargon. Impossible, stupid words. Must have been some silly, out of the ordinary phrase, because there was no feasible way for such a well-known circus group to be “magical” and not dead.

Jaehyun feels out of place, surrounded by little children clinging onto their mothers with sticky, sugary hands, and groups of friends with their loud, obnoxious chattering. He shouldn’t be here, at least, not alone, and certainly not with his camera hidden beneath his fingers, under the satchel cover. 

It’s almost criminal, the way he plays with the extra film canisters as he waits for the show to start.

Finally, the lights dim to black, and the crowd quiets to a hush. Jaehyun pulls out his notebook and blindly flips to an empty page.

A spotlight comes on, focused on the platform elevated from the circle of sand in the center of the circus ring. The man’s back is to Jaehyun, but he slowly turns, and Jaehyun manages to catch a glimpse of his smirk before he turns away again.

_ The Ringmaster_, he recalls. The descriptions of the blood red tailcoat and black top hat lined with gold in its flesh. It would be a lie to say Jaehyun hadn’t dreamt up a million different versions based on that simple description, reiterated with no further detail in each of his newspaper clippings. 

With the Ringmaster’s head facing him, Jaehyun only spots the black of his hair, almost blue, and his rather pale complexion. The Ringmaster twirls his cane with grace, tapping it on the platform, its thump reverberating throughout the tent.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages. Today, you are here to witness the amazing talents and unbelievable acts of our wonderful cast of _ Cirque des Perdus._” The crowd erupts with applause, but the Ringmaster holds up a finger, silencing them again. “You will see things that seem almost impossible, almost _ magical_. I will assure you now, though, that it is all a simple trick of the mind, and you will discover a world of creativity and art within you that you’ve never encountered before.”

The Ringmaster smiles this time, and though Jaehyun cannot see his eyes from this angle, as the rim of his top hat shadows it, Jaehyun can tell they’re playful, proud. 

“Tonight, I will take you on a journey through the forbidden magical worlds. Where fairytales are real, and mythical creatures come to life. But first, I must tell you the story of a little boy. A little boy who was lost, confused. That boy will grow up to do great things, once he overcomes the dangerous adventures God has set him upon. That boy will become a hero.”

The lights shut off as the Ringmaster turns with a flick of his tailcoat, sending the audience into another fit of claps.

It’s then that the curtain lifts, and a plethora of horses burst through, all different shades of brown and black and white, each with an intricate silver chain crown wrapped around its head. On the last horse, a black stallion, a man perched on it stands up with his feet looped in the stirrups. He gestures at the audience with wide, open arms, and a shimmery smile, just about as shiny as the rhinestones on his white coat. 

The horses circle the ring, all running together at the same speed, except the black stallion with the man, whose rider fidgets with the saddle strings until he manages to flip upside down on the horse, only his legs wound tight around the horse’s body keeping him up. The crowd oohs and aahs, and Jaehyun can’t look away. 

The rider swings himself around the horse several more times, legs kicking over the horse’s head, its body, and the stallion continues running at its speed, never slowing. His jacket shimmers even more at every slight movement.

Eventually, the horse slows, and the rider jumps off, running to the center and jumping onto the platform. There’s a rock, the hilt of a sword half buried in its mass. Jaehyun vaguely recalls the story of Excalibur, of King Arthur and his knights. 

He grabs the golden hilt, and the lights focus on only the platform and the stone. King Arthur, Jaehyun finds easier to refer him to, slowly pulls out the sword, raising it to the air, the silver and gold glittering, and suddenly, there’s a crown atop his brown hair, a red sash over the ruffles of his white jacket. 

The King hops up onto a white mare with golden hair this time, and it soon catches up with the other horses. He pulls himself up to stand on the horse, all while holding the sword up into the air. Another white mare sprints closer, sidling up with the King’s horse, close enough for him to step onto its back, which he does, one foot on each saddle of the mares, all while the herd continues to move in its trajectory. 

He stands with only a hand on the bunched up reins, the other pointing the sword around at the audience, to which they clap even more so, and the herd exits the tent, just as the lights go out again.

Next, a shorter man appears at the side of the ring, in a green tunic and a leather strap looped around his shoulder and waist. When the man impishly turns to nod at the audience, Jaehyun sees that the strap is holding a quiver of arrows, and that he’s holding a large bow. 

_ Robin Hood_. 

It’s as if he didn’t have bones. He bends himself in half backwards and lifts his feet so that his weight is completely balanced on his palms, but his body continues to twist, forward and back, around his shoulders, in places that shouldn’t be humanly possible. He lifts a hand so that he’s only held up by one palm, and he even hops a few times along the side of the ring. 

Jaehyun takes a few pictures, but from his spot, he knows they won’t do the acrobat justice. 

Robin Hood then makes his way to two poles, topped with a small wooden block. He jumps on immediately and holds himself up with his hands, the poles turning from the momentum he used to climb up. 

He bends himself to remove the bow off his chest with his toes, then pulls an arrow out of his quiver. With the feathers of the arrow between the crevice of his toes, he extends it to set the arrowhead on fire on a nearby torch. Gracefully, he positions the bow and arrow over his body with his feet, his head right underneath, his eyes now covered with an opaque red cloth. 

On the opposite side of the ring is a burlap sack, hanging in the air. Robin Hood lifts a hand and places it behind his back, forcing him to spin again on the pole. The crowd around Jaehyun seems to hold the same breath as him, and lets it out all together with a long applause when the arrow is released and hits the bag right in the center, setting the entire thing aflame. 

Robin Hood uncontorts himself and lands in the sand with grace, pulling the red scarf off his eyes. He smiles and nods his head in acknowledgement, before flipping his way out of the ring again.

Then there’s a knife thrower with deadly accuracy, his knives creating an outline around his target, mapping out a path that appears to end at the heart of the boy across from him. However, the last knife lands at the top of the wooden board with a loud thud, just missing his human target by a hair on the top of his head. Jaehyun’s not too familiar with other fairy tales to make a clear connection to what this act could be. He doesn’t dwell too much on that though, and just focuses on the next act.

A young boy appears with shocking orange hair and a long cape wrapped around his neck. In his arms is a top hat, like that of a typical, street magician’s. He rolls the rim of the hat along his arms, over his neck, and flicks his hand at the end, popping the hat up into the air. It lands safely on the top of his head, and he quickly pulls it off, setting it on the table in the center of the ring, and reaches elbow deep into the hat, pulling out a pristine white rabbit. The children of the crowd gasp and point at the bunny hopping into the boy’s arms.

Next to Jaehyun is a family consisting of a little girl around six years old, her older brother, and her parents. Her dark eyes shine as she watches the boy in the ring produce a bouquet of flowers out of thin air, and as he tosses the bouquet out into the audience, its white daisies and orange roses burst into a plethora of petals that rain down on the stands.

The boy continues with a series of classic magic tricks, producing a seemingly endless supply of golden coins from four upturned metal cups, restoring a cut rope, and tugging on an endless chain of colorful scarves out of his pockets. The last scarf he pulls out is red, and he keeps it in his hand, tugging the corner through the bottom of a tight fist. When he releases his hand, a white dove flutters out, perched on his finger.

The bird flies out of the ring, away from the spotlight, but the crowd follows its trajectory into the black tent top, where it disappears.

He continues, this time with a large box laying in front of him on a table. It’s split in three, the seam between them filled already with a silver blade, its edges filed to ridges. The boy pulls each box out and displays it to the audience, placing it on the ground beside him.

Then, he opens the first box, putting a hand in, and another boy jumps out, with golden blonde hair and a giant smile that consumes his whole face.

The trick continues as Jaehyun expects, the blonde boy lying into the boxes, and the orange-haired magician sliding each blade back in with a menacing _ shling. _

He gestures his fingers, never really touching the box, as he slides the middle one away, as if severing the boy from his body. The blonde even opens the box and leans his torso forward with a wave, before he’s put back in, and adjusted back to alignment. 

The magician opens the doors of the box, and the blonde hops out to the sand and takes a bow all around, pushing the orange-haired boy down along with him. The two wave at the audience as they walk off, just as the stage goes black.

Through intermission, Jaehyun searches around the area and finds the horse rider and knife thrower walking to a train positioned not too far from the tent. From a distance, the red cart glows like fire, lit up by the falling sun. That must be where the other performers, where the Ringmaster, will be by the end of the show. 

Jaehyun, as ominous as it may seem, decides that, if he were to get the story he needs, then he’ll need to sneak in.

The rest of the show passes by in a blur. He remembers, perhaps, a scene of the acrobat with a singer, another with a boy and his ring of tigers. He just sits in anticipation, waiting for the end of the show so he can finally conduct the interview that could change his whole life.

As the lights come up, Jaehyun makes his way down the stands, not running as to gain attention, but walking quickly enough to make sure he can get out of the tent before the swarm of the crowd. Keeping his head low, he walks around to the back of the tent, then towards the train stationed some hundred yards away. 

He sees a flash of red tails disappear into a car near the front of the train. It’s exactly what he’s looking for, but he still hesitates, slowing his pace. The circus has evaded interviews from all other media and press; Jaehyun’s attempts won’t be any different. But he’s a reporter, he lives without a sense of respect for the interviewee, or he wouldn’t ever get a story. He’ll try his damn best to get in, even if he’s shut down immediately.

When he approaches the car door, he hears the voice of the Ringmaster and another, higher pitched one he doesn’t recognize. He stops at the entrance of the car, simply standing there, not wanting to interrupt. He’s unwilling to walk in just to be rejected, and have his plans shut down with a simple, “No.” 

He peeks anyways. The door isn’t closed all the way, and though he hears two voices, he only sees one person. Looking through the foot-long gap, he sees the Ringmaster take off his hat and place it on a table, ebony hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He takes a red fountain pen and scribbles something on the desk with sharp jots. 

“So where are we going next?” he hears the higher voice say. 

The Ringmaster looks up at nothing, but Jaehyun can’t hold in the small gasp that escapes him when a small figure sitting on the edge of the desk suddenly appears out of thin air. It’s the acrobat. 

Jaehyun blinks a few more times to clear his head of what he may have just imagined, but the image is ingrained in his head: the body materializing from the torso, and spreading to reveal his limbs then his head. So it’s real. It’s all real.

Though the acrobat continues talking, the Ringmaster visibly tenses up.

“Someone’s here” he says, and the other man cuts off, freezing as well. The acrobat stands up and slides the door open, facing a guilty Jaehyun.

Startled, his hands fumble, and his precious camera falls out of his hands and onto the ground, its lense shattering with a loud crunch. He scrambles to pick up the remaining pieces, and the fact that it’s completely destroyed doesn’t even cross his mind, not when both men stare at him with guarded eyes, waiting for an explanation.

“Uh, hello sir,” Jaehyun stutters, the speech he had rehearsed flying out of his head in an instant. “I’m a reporter from the local newspaper and I was wondering if I could interview-”

Jaehyun is cut off as another figure comes running towards them, pushing past him and into the car.

“Sicheng what’s wrong? Is it—”

“He’s coming,” the newcomer huffs out.

“How long do we have?” With the Ringmaster and the acrobat’s attention both away from Jaehyun, he’s tempted to slip away and pretend none of this ever happened.

“A couple hours at most.”

“Ten, tell the others to start packing. _ Now_,” the Ringmaster orders, turning back to his desk with another flick of his tailcoat.

Jaehyun watches the acrobat, Ten, disappear around the corner as he runs back towards the tent. When he turns his head back to the Ringmaster, he’s met with the barrel of a pistol.

“What’s your name?”

Jaehyun’s mouth falls open. Not from the gun pointed directly at his head, but from the lilt of politeness in the Ringmaster’s voice.

“Jung Jaehyun…”

“How much did you see?”

“Not much, just the man appearing—”

The Ringmaster’s mouth twists into a smirk, and as he readjusts the gun in his hand, the metal clicks. Jaehyun gulps.

“Well, Jung Jaehyun, I’m afraid you have to come with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
[twitter (ohcanadaman)](https://twitter.com/ohcanadaman)  
[twitter (joint)](https://twitter.com/johncanadaman)  
[curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)  
[character profiles (the ringmaster carrd)](https://theringmaster.carrd.co/)  
[official spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6wR8vufsZ6CFCkLGaSrxQa?si=1Cr7CB-3QZS7-PnXjvWLqg)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re big boss man’s new hire, yes? I’ve heard some things about you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title: In which Jaehyun is like the rest of non-nctzens: why the fuck are there so many of them.

The train runs smoothly, with a few bumps here and there as expected, but Jaehyun’s never had the need to take a train and purses his lips at every turn; his fingers, laced together, tighten at each jolt. He didn’t think he would fear travel when his heart had been set on it for so long. He’d dreamt of taking a train across the country to the coast, where he would find a boat to sail him to a foreign country, where he wouldn’t know the people or the language. That unexpected quality of travel had been an exhilarating thought, but when the train hiccups along a hitch on the railroad, it makes Jaehyun’s stomach lurch. Maybe he should have considered that before running recklessly to a magic circus.

He’s stayed in his corner of the train car for the whole hour that they have been driving, barely moving from his seat on the wooden box next to a straw mattress that he supposes is one of the seven boys’ that he’s sharing the cart with. Or, trespassing may be the better word. His notebook sticks stubbornly to his side, never out of reach, his camera left in shards in his leather satchel. Every time he shifts his legs, he can hear the glass clink against each other, and it makes him grimace.

The circle of young boys perched on the trunks and against the support beams all looked hollow, their childish innocence drained dry from their body, the inside brittle and ready to break. None of them could have been more than twenty, all of them tall and rather intimidating, in contrast to their colorful hair. But despite the emptiness, there's warmth brewing within the circle, carefully stored and passed along the seven of them. Jaehyun knows he’s intruding on a sacred friendship, established on years of unimaginable hurt.

He remembers the orange-haired and blonde one specifically. The blonde one talks in hushed whispers to who Jaehyun barely recognizes as the singer, and the two glance over at Jaehyun every few seconds and pause their conversation, only to launch right back in with even more fervor. The orange-haired one sits alone, flipping a gold coin between his fingers, back and forth in a blur. He stares at Jaehyun with a bit less harshness and more curiosity than the other six boys. 

The tiger trainer is tending his wound in the corner and another boy who Jaehyun doesn’t recognize gently presses his fingers over the cut, sealing the skin over. Jaehyun’s eyes go wide for a moment, but quickly glances away when the tiger trainer’s eyes scan over him coldly.

One of the boys sitting on the pile of crates avoids Jaehyun’s gaze every time he surveys the room. He flinches whenever the rusty train’s wheels squeak against the metal track, when the train wobbles and tilts. However, he doesn’t move when the black-haired boy, the knife thrower, skims the edges of two extremely sharp, extremely large swords against each other. The strike of metal against metal that could absolutely start a spark makes Jaehyun want to fold in on himself.

“Who are you?”

Jaehyun’s eyes snap to the blonde boy, who’s words make the entire car go dead silent. 

He pauses, but finds that answering would mean he’s less likely to be killed. 

“Jaehyun. I’m a reporter.” 

The blonde boy blinks a few times, contemplating whether to open his mouth or not. Hesitation, maybe fear, though Jaehyun is sure _ he _ should be more scared of _ them_. He puts on a determined face and walks over, extending a pale hand. “I’m Chenle.”

“Chenle, step away. You don’t know if he’s dangerous or not,” the tiger trainer says. He stretches his previously wounded hand a few times, before curling it into a tight fist. 

Chenle doesn’t step back. Instead, he pastes on a blinding smile. “I refuse to sit for the next four hours and not talk because a stranger is in here, _ Mark_.”

Jaehyun takes Chenle’s hand for a quick shake. 

“You’ve got quite a strong grip for a reporter, _ Jaehyun_.” He stresses the foreign name in his sentence, not meant to be contemptuous, but it feels like it. Chenle pulls a wooden barrel over and plops down on it, still facing Jaehyun. “You’re stuck here for good. At least until Doyoung decides to let you go, which is probably—”

“Never, considering how mad he was when he rounded us up,” The boy who was healing Mark’s hand cuts in. “He’s going to increase security procedures again.”

The car groans in unison. Jaehyun finds it almost scary how in sync they all are.

“That’s Jaemin,” Chenle leans in to tell Jaehyun quietly as the rest of the boys resume a slightly more lively banter. “Knife boy over there is Jeno. He’s not really all that intimidating, most of the time. And that’s Haechan, the one who sang during the aerial silk performance. The kid on the crates is Renjun. Peter Pan on the tightrope, if you will.”

Jaehyun’s eyes follow each boy as Chenle introduces them, until he reaches the orange-haired boy, who has long ducked his head to fidget with the coin in closer detail.

“And this—” Chenle hooks his arm over the boy, dragging him closer, the boy letting out a yelp and dropping the gold coin. “—is my Jisungie.” Chenle grabs Jisung’s cheek with two fingers and pinches it.

Jisung murmurs a few protests against Chenle’s rough handling, but doesn’t fight him, and just slouches as Chenle jabs at his temple. 

“You don’t have to worry too much about it… Well, about anything at all. Doyoung doesn’t hold grudges. He’s just doing this for safety. I’m sure he’ll let you out at the next stop,” Chenle continues, all while petting Jisung’s head like a dog. 

“I’m sure your Ringmaster pointing a gun at my head means he just wants to be friends,” Jaehyun replies, scoffing to himself. 

“He’s not gonna shoot you,” Chenle reassures, interrupted by Jisung’s quiet but distinct, “_Maybe_.”

Jaehyun gulps. 

Jeno, if he remembers correctly, has long stored his knives away, face melting from the cold expression from earlier. “We’ve all been in front of the barrel before, multiple times for some people—” He sends a pointed look at Haechan, who sends back a sheepish wave. “It’s just to make him more intimidating.”

“Bet he never has that gun loaded anyways,” Haechan mutters to himself, but still loud enough for the train car’s inhabitants to hear. Mark snorts quietly at the comment.

The dynamic of the boys intrigues Jaehyun, to say the least. How they manage to look haggard and tired, aged beyond compare, yet still have a sense of playfulness. He wants so badly to reach into his bag and jot down everything he’s seen and heard that day, make use of his time without the Ringmaster looming over his head. Exploit the innocence of these kids to get an insider scoop, maybe, but Jaehyun wipes that idea out of his head immediately. He still has a sense of morality.

“There was a man,” Jaehyun begins. “He appeared out of nowhere when I was looking for the Ringmaster. Ten, I think it was?” 

“So that’s why you’re here.”

All eyes are on him, even shy Jisung’s and adamantly cold Mark’s. 

Jaehyun just stares back at them with a blank look on his face. 

Chenle laughs. “Everyone in the circus is magical. Well, Taeil’s a bit different, but that’s another story. It’s why our circus is so… special.”

“That’s enough, Chenle,” Mark interrupts again, with a little more ferocity. 

Chenle backs away, but not before leaning over slightly to whisper, “I’ll tell you more later.”

Jaehyun doesn’t jump out of the car immediately, taking a moment to survey the new location first, and he’s amazed and disappointed at the same time, if that’s even possible. 

It’s yet another grassy field, which Jaehyun shouldn’t be too surprised about, for he’s traveling with a circus, not a vacation tour group. The others have long begun the steady process of unloading the train, and there are wooden crates and barrels everywhere, stacked in groups, spread out along the area for what Jaehyun deems as future convenience when all the tents and equipment are set up.

Only the quiet boy, Renjun, stays behind, watching Jaehyun take in the view.

“I’m sure you can be at least a bit productive while you’re here, Jaehyun,” the boy says, and there’s no venom, just mild amusement. “Doyoung would appreciate it.”

He has an elfish smile, Jaehyun realizes, following Renjun through the crates and people shuffling everywhere, arms loaded with tools. From afar, Jaehyun can see someone hammering away at metal, rebuilding a glowing golden structure by hand.

“Excuse me, Renjun, how come you don’t just use—” When he doesn’t make any notion that he’s heard the question, Jaehyun reaches out to tap his shoulder gently.

They come to a halt, Renjun turning abruptly and crossing his arms. Despite his small frame, Renjun manages to exude a bigger-than-life energy that makes Jaehyun almost timid. “For future reference, you need to face me when I talk,” Renjun states. 

“Why would I—”

Renjun points at his ear with a finger. “Deaf. I read lips instead.”

Jaehyun can feel the blood rising to his ears. “How do you do your tightrope act if you’re, you know—” He also points to his ear, hesitant.

“I don’t walk on the tightrope with my ears, sir.” Renjun cocks his head and blinks twice. “Are you sure you’re older than me? You don’t seem to have a greater mental capacity.”

Fortunately, Jaehyun’s embarrassment is interrupted by a tall figure lumbering over. He seems to trip on thin air, because he stumbles forward in a heap, nearly crushing Renjun on the way.

“Hello!” It’s the man from the ticketbooth, Jaehyun recalls, and in retrospect, he may have underestimated just how tall he is. He drapes an arm over Renjun and extends the other one to Jaehyun. “Lucas, resident hypnotist. They call me Cheshire sometimes.”

“No, they most certainly do not.” Renjun rolls his eyes, looking away towards one of the crates nearby. “Now, if you aren’t here to help, then please leave.”

“But Jun—”

“You don’t have to be so loud around me.” Renjun spins around again to shoot Lucas a withering glare.

Lucas furrows his eyebrows. “Must I remind you that you are deaf.”

“_Your presence is too loud._” 

“You must be Jaehyun,” Lucas says, ignoring Renjun’s huff of disapproval. “You’re big boss man’s new hire, yes? I’ve heard some things about you!”

“Lucas, you met this man mere minutes ago, how could you have possibly—”

“I have a way with words, sweetheart, remember?” Lucas wiggles his eyebrows at Renjun, who retorts with a scowl. The two both glance at a confused Jaehyun. 

“Charmspeak. Remind me to find you a pair of earmuffs,” Renjun mutters.

“Well, speaking of sweethearts,” Lucas’s gaze catches onto something behind Jaehyun, and he turns to face it, _ him_. “Jungwoo!”

The man is literally glowing when he heads to the group, grinning, eyes alight with mirth. A yellow light follows him, surrounds him, exudes from his body as if he were a lamp. Jaehyun almost feels blinded.

“Lucas. Renjun. Jaehyun, I presume?”

Jaehyun nods. How the hell the entire circus managed to learn about his presence so quickly, he doesn’t know.

Jungwoo pays Lucas no mind, facing Renjun. “I’ll need your help fixing up backstage tonight. Someone’s managed to break some of the bulbs during transfer.”

The two drone on about setting up this and mending that, and as Jaehyun’s interest wanes, he leans over to Lucas. “Why is Jungwoo glowing like a lantern?”

“Oh, that.” With the sun drowning behind the horizon, Jungwoo’s aura multiplies tenfold to create a fiery circle around him. Lucas lets out a dreamy sigh. “He’s the light technician.”

“I don’t see how that’s magic—”

“Energy control and manipulation,” Jungwoo answers for him. “I attract excess light particles without my knowledge, most of the time.”

“It makes him even more beautiful,” Lucas tells Jaehyun, but by his volume, the whole circus might as well have heard. 

“Lucas, enough.” Renjun takes down the last box and cracks it open. “I’m sure you have some coins to count for today? Inventory is what keeps us going, after all.” He pats Lucas on the back a few times to hurry him along, but with much more strength than necessary, leaving Lucas whining.

The two disappear behind another maze of crates stacked high, and Jaehyun is left with Jungwoo, who offers a knowing smile. “You can wander, if you would like. We’ll just be unpacking. I’m sure there’s a lot to explore.”

And with that, Jaehyun’s alone again. 

Jaehyun finds an area away from the busiest of the set up, and settles on an empty crate. There’s decent lighting, a string of bulbs hanging on the beam holding up a white tent next to him, the inside filled with some living essentials, like clothes and other hygiene supplies. 

He pulls out his notebook, a leatherbound gifted by his grandmother, with his name etched on the binding. It has become well-loved over the years, despite him never using it for work. Inside, he reserves the pages for what he deems as important: travel plans for when he can afford to leave town and stories that are actually slightly more interesting than the local police dog giving birth to a litter of puppies.

He’s maybe halfway through the notebook, and as he attempts to recall every detail of the past 24 hours, he knows those few pages won’t be enough. But he continues to write as much as he can remember in small, slanted letters.

“How are you faring so far?”

Jaehyun jolts at the sudden voice, searching for its owner, who’s leaning on the pole of the tent behind him. He slams the notebook shut and stuffs it into his bag. “Fine, thank you.”

The man crosses his arms and smiles knowingly, but of what, Jaehyun can’t quite understand. “They’re more scared of you than you are of them. They have magic, but they also have the entire world against them.”

When the government issued the decree that stated to turn in anyone possibly associated to magic, either being magical or harboring and helping those who are, Jaehyun had been very young. Some outburst in the hidden community big enough to have sent the government into scrambles. But it never bothered him, so the knowledge was stored somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I’m Taeil,” the man says, pushing off the pole to head into the tent. Jaehyun watches him take out a thick binder full of papers. Taeil takes a seat on the grass, opening the binder and grabbing the pen already clipped inside. “They’re risking everything for this circus. To put themselves out there in public like that just to entertain some people.”

“I don’t get it.” Jaehyun looks at the notes in the binder, all in a rich purple cursive, which he has trouble reading upside down. “How do the people not know it’s magic?”

“You watched the show yourself. You went in there blind, and people only believe what they want to believe. If you hadn’t been caught—” Taeil stops his writing to send an apology to Jaehyun. “You would think it’s any other circus."

Taeil returns to his scribbling, comparing the words on the two sides and then quickly printing perfect letters on a blank sheet of paper. 

Jaehyun finally remembers why Taeil’s name had been so familiar. Besides what Chenle had said about him being different from the rest of the circus, Jaehyun also recalls the name from the newspapers he had collected. The headlines, something about how Senator Moon’s only son had been captured by a magic user escapee, never found again. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you _ Moon _ Taeil by any chance?”

Taeil nods, hesitantly.

“Aren’t you supposed to be… dead? And human?”

Taeil visibly tenses. “I _am_ human. It was a just sob story to cover everything up. I ran away on my own accord.”

Jaehyun can’t quite have it wrap around his head, that Taeil’s also human. The son of a powerful man in the country, nonetheless. It all feels like a dream. “Why, though? You were living comfortably, I must assume—”

“The government would rather antagonize and blame every little thing going wrong on the magic users, to build fear in the humans and force them to trust the government only. I knew they were wrong, and I didn’t want to live in lies.” Taeil shrugs it off as if it is some casual affair.

He doesn’t bother expanding on it, so Jaehyun moves on. “What are you doing now, then?”

“Not much, really. I’m just the backstage manager. Doing the paperwork that no one wants to do.” Taeil laughs quietly to himself, slipping the paper into the pocket of the binder and closing it.

Suddenly, a bell chimes, echoing across the field.

“Come on, dinner’s ready,” Taeil says, standing up and offering a hand to Jaehyun.

Taeil leads him over to the main tent where platefuls of food have already been set out on a table. A brown-haired man appears with another ceramic tray, mittens on, carrying it over, and Taeil hurries to help clear a space for him on the covered surface. 

Jaehyun scoops a spoonful of mashed potatoes, filling his plate with the variety of foods on display, then looks around for a place to sit. He spots Doyoung in the corner with Ten and Yuta, talking in hushed voices, and quickly turns away.

“Jaehyun!” He sees Chenle waving him over. “Come sit with us!”

Jaehyun walks over to the blonde boy and his friends and takes a seat.

“So who have you met so far?”

“Besides all of you?” Jaehyun lists off the names of the rest, a short one, but a list nonetheless.

Chenle starts counting off names on his right hand. “Okay, so you still have… Wait, I don’t have enough fingers for this.” He grabs Jisung’s hand, startling the poor boy who drops his fork on his plate with a clatter, and continues to count off on the other’s fingers. “A couple more, if my math is correct. I never went to school.”

Jisung just sighs and picks up his fork. “You have another hand you know,” he says, pointing at Chenle’s forgotten left hand.

“Oh, right. Thanks, Sungie,” Chenle says, but doesn’t let go of his grip on the other’s hand, instead, lacing their fingers together and bouncing the fist on his knee. There’s a blush spreading across Jisung’s cheeks that he hides with a tilt of his head.

Jaehyun can’t help but smile at the boys. To his left, Jeno twirls his steak knife between his fingers, then stabs his dinner roll and takes a bite out of it right off the knife. The amount of black ink on his arm scares Jaehyun, because _ isn’t that boy fifteen? _ It’s a full sleeve of swirls, skulls, and carefully etched words that move across his biceps like clouds on a windy day. But the small black dot on Jeno’s finger doesn’t move with the rest, it stays there as he flips the knife into the air and catches it swiftly.

A few seconds later, Jeno’s choking on said bread, laughing at something Haechan said that Jaehyun didn’t quite catch. He uses the hand with the knife in it to pound at his chest, trying to unlodge the piece in his throat, and Jaehyun wants to reach out to warn him, but it’s too late. The metal of the knife stabs into his chest, and Jaehyun is ready to see blood gushing, but nothing happens_. _

Jaemin sighs.

Jaehyun averts his gaze quickly, his mind too slow to comprehend what the godforsaken hell just happened. “Are you okay?”

Jeno coughs a few times. “I’m fine, thanks,” he manages, voice scratchy.

“How are you… what was _ that? _” Jaehyun says, flustered, pointing to Jeno’s knife, handle still clutched in his hand and head tucked neatly in his chest.

“He has thick skin. And a thick head,” Jaemin explains, though it really doesn’t serve as as valid explanation. “That’s why he never listens to anything I say.”

“Excuse me?” Jeno retorts, tugging the knife out without even a wince and dropping it back onto his plate. He pats at the cut fabric of his shirt as if it would patch the cloth back up. “I’m not thick headed.”

Chenle finally comes to Jaehyun’s rescue, explaining, “He’s indestructible. Physically, at least. He’s actually really sensitive.”

“No, I’m not!” Jeno whines. Chenle just sticks his tongue out at him.

Jisung, who has been quiet this whole time, suddenly holds out a deck of cards in front of Jaehyun.

“Pick a card.”

Jaehyun feels like he’s being dragged in four directions with everything happening all at once, Jaemin and Jeno arguing back and forth, Renjun and Jungwoo laughing quietly with each other, Chenle’s commentary, and now Jisung. Nonetheless, he selects a card from the middle of the stack and takes a look at it. The King of Spades. He follows Jisung’s instruction to put it back in the middle. 

Jisung shuffles, letting the cards fly from one hand to the other. He then closes his palms around it, hiding the deck. “I’ll be shooting your card out of this deck. Be ready.”

He flicks a finger, and a single card flies out, and Jaehyun barely catches it in time. He glances at it. The Seven of Hearts.

“Now, that’s not your card, not even close. Put the card out for everyone to see.”

Jaehyun places the card flat on his palm, and Jisung glides his hand over it quickly.

The King of Spades stares back at him in the blink of an eye.

“Now watch closely,” Jisung says, then snaps his fingers.

In an instant, the card in his hand turns into a plate, only a few food scraps left on it, and the card lies innocently on the top of Jisung’s deck in his lap.

“Thanks for playing, the dish is your consolation prize.” Chenle snickers silently on the side.

Jaehyun laughs lightheartedly. “Well, if I’m taking yours I might as well take everyone else’s too,” he says, standing and stacking the others’ plates together. He’s a few steps out of the tent already before realizing he has absolutely no idea where he’s going.

“You look lost,” a soft spoken voice pipes up.

A lithe figure steps out of the tent behind him. He seems tired, with a glint of cynicism behind his eyes and hollowed sockets to keep it in. As if he held the world on his shoulders. 

“It’s this way,” the man says, gesturing for Jaehyun to follow him. “I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. I’m Sicheng, the fortune teller.”

“Jaehyun.”

“I know. I knew before you even set foot on our grounds.”

“Right. Fortune teller.”

“Seer, actually. Fortune is just a side effect of the few lucky ones out there. I have visions, not necessarily all good ones. It’s just easier for the folks if I use fortune teller as a show title.”

They reach the kitchen, where they wash the plates then stack them on the rack next to the sink.

As Sicheng is drying the dishware, Jaehyun notices a black mark on his finger, the same one he saw on Jeno earlier.

Jaehyun’s about to question it when Sicheng lifts his hand to display the mark before he could even open his mouth. “We all have one. The tattoo is more for protection than anything. Suppresses our trail so it’s harder to find us. You’ll need to get one as well, to keep you in. Or ‘on a leash’, as Doyoung said. Jaemin should be here right about…” Sicheng looks up from the plate for a second, lost in his thoughts. 

“Now,” he says, right as Jaemin peeks in.

“Jaehyun! Are you done doing our chores?”

“Uhm—” Jaehyun glances at the plates lined on the rack, the last one in Sicheng’s hand. “Sure.”

“Then come with me. You’re about to get your first tattoo.”

Jaemin’s tent went unnoticed the first time Jaehyun explored the circus grounds, but he’s quite unsure how he managed that. It’s not red, like the main tent, but a dark gray, and the only way it’s visible in the night is because of the cerulean lights hanging along the roofing. It reminds Jaehyun of twilight, when blue daylight pierces the black sky to let the sunrise through.

The inside is rather bright, candles in every corner. Jaemin is already in his chair, swirling the small container of ink on the table. 

Jaehyun takes a seat in the opposite chair, heart beating out of his chest. 

“You want the teddy bear? The kids who get their ears pierced usually hold it. Calms the nerves a bit.” Jaemin turns, the tattoo gun in his hand. It glares menacingly back at Jaehyun.

“No, I think I’m alright.”’

“Good.” Jaemin grabs a cotton pad and drips some alcohol onto it. He rubs it along the skin of his ring finger, cold to the touch. “This is only going to hurt a bit.”

He dips the tip into the black ink, and clicks the machine on. The moment the needle pricks his skin, Jaehyun lets out a hiss.

Jaemin leans down and dabs at the finger with a cloth. “I personally think this serves more as a reminder that we’re together and one, besides the whole protection thing. Anyone steps out of line and we’re all dead meat”

When Jaemin draws in the fourth line, Jaehyun reaches to the table and grabs the fraying teddy bear, tucking it under his chin. He decides to focus on the black ink on Jaemin’s working hand, swirling along his skin in circles, forming random designs on its own accord.

With a final wipe, Jaemin announces, “Done!” and Jaehyun looks at the delicate tattoo of a four-point star, barely the length of a knuckle. He can still almost feel the prickling of the needle over and over again in the area.

“Huh,” Jaemin says. “It’s usually smoking at this point.” He pokes the tattoo with his pinkie. “I didn’t do anything differently though, so it should still work. Eh, you probably just have thick skin like Jeno.”

A knock comes from the entrance, and both snap their heads towards the sound.

“Oh, hello Kun.” Jaemin takes the dirtied cloth from his work station and tosses it over his shoulder so he can hold the ink and tattoo gun safely, one in each hand.

Kun motions his head towards the door, bidding Jaehyun to follow. His finger is still sore when he stretches it, but the prickling sensation has long subsided. He thanks Jaemin quickly, and follows Kun out.

“Doyoung told me to bring you clothes and such.” Kun hands Jaehyun a bundle of white and brown, to which he assumes must be a tunic and some pants. “You’ll be sleeping where you were on the way here.”

The car’s door is slid halfway open, revealing the boys to be readying for bed. Chenle had long fallen asleep in his corner, an arm wrapped around Jisung’s waist.

There’s a candle already lit in his own spot, much emptier than the rest of the boys’, as his only belongings were attached to him. He gingerly places his bag on the drawer and tosses the clothes onto the mattress.

“Doyoung wants to meet with you tomorrow, first thing in the morning. He’ll come find you.”

Jaehyun runs a hand through his hair, and then drags it down his face, absolutely exhausted. “Of course he does.”

“Don’t be so tense, Jaehyun. You can’t get hurt here. Ask what you want, we’ll answer. We’re people, just like you.” Kun offers a small smile.

“Do you… do you know how long I’ll be here?”

Kun purses his lips. “That, I’m unsure about. But if you ever need anything, I’ll be in the costume room. Feel free to visit when I’m not too busy.” And then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates probably will not follow a schedule as we are dreadfully in school now :(( but we'll try to update every two weeks at least.
> 
> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
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[character profiles (the ringmaster carrd)](https://theringmaster.carrd.co/)  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are a reporter, looking for a chance for a groundbreaking story, and what’s better than a group of magic users traveling together like a flock to be hunted? The moment you step foot out of this circus alive, we might as well be considered dead on the spot. I won’t let that happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working title: Jaehyun does the cooking, Jaehyun does the cleaning, he's finally doing something for once

The morning on the field is different, more tranquil, easier, than in town. There’s no early bustling of shops ready to haul in their daily supplies for prep work, no businessmen stepping out of apartment buildings with a kiss on the cheek to head out into the city to work for the money they will simply use up that night on the opposite side of town instead of bringing it home to their wives. 

It’s quiet when Jaehyun slips out of the train car, the sun hardly peeking out the horizon, just a few rays reaching and clawing its way out of the earth and into the sky. It leaves the world painted in pinks and purples and blues that Jaehyun can’t get out of his head. Back home, there are fewer colors, less light, and the sunrise happens in a blink of an eye. Here, sitting off to the side of the circus set up, on the edge of the circle of grass they’ve taken over, he can see past the few scattered trees to watch the glow expand and encase the world, slow and steady, into its glass globe.

He would take a picture if he could. The gold expanse spreads like watercolor into the blue, and morning comes.

Someone clears their throat from behind.

“Jung Jaehyun.”

Snapping his head around, he finds a black-haired man. He finally gets a better look at him, the porcelain skin and long chin, large eyes and thin lips, a face too innocent to be the criminal leader of an illegal band of magic users. The iconic tailcoat and tophat are missing from his outfit ensemble. Instead, he’s in a cornflower button-down and dark pants, simple, similar to Jaehyun’s own borrowed clothes. 

“You’re awake early.”

Jaehyun contemplates his first set of words to him, away from gunpoint this time around. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Doyoung doesn’t make an effort to sit. He slides his hands into his pockets and tilts his chin towards the sun, completely risen now. It casts a shimmery sheen on his skin.

“I have some ground rules for you, Jaehyun,” Doyoung proposes. “You’ll be staying here indefinitely, and I need to ensure the safety of my circus.” He speaks in such a formal manner that Jaehyun can’t help but frown at how cold his voice is.

“You make it sound like I’m the enemy.”

“_You are the enemy_.” Doyoung moves his stare to Jaehyun, and it’s as distant as his speech. “You are a reporter, looking for a chance for a groundbreaking story, and what’s better than a group of magic users traveling together like a flock to be hunted? The moment you step foot out of this circus alive, we might as well be considered dead on the spot. I won’t let that happen.”

Jaehyun scoffs, sarcasm seeping through his teeth and into his words. “You think I’ll go tell every living soul I see, huh? About how _ evil _ and _ demonic _ these little magic monkeys are, and that they’re a threat to humanity? I still have morals, sir.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes at Jaehyun and takes an angry breath. He bends over at the waist, lessening the distance between their faces. “You’re a human. You all are selfish beings that have never had to run _ for your lives _ for having something you can’t control. My circus survives by escaping your incompetent government that just wants someone to blame for whatever corruption manages to pop up.”

And then he straightens back up, stature even stiffer than before, shoulders pulled together, tense, a sour expression polluting his face. He’d be rather nice to look at, if he wasn’t always so irritated. 

Doyoung pulls out a golden watch from his pocket, glances at its face, and clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“Listen well, for I do not have the time to bother repeating it.” Doyoung’s eyes are hard, void of anything. “The tattoo prevents you from leaving, so do not bother trying. In the meantime, you’ll be working with our staff and doing as they say. Whatever they request, you carry it out.”

“Don’t I get a say—”

“That opportunity left the moment you decided to trespass into closed quarters.”

And Jaehyun isn’t as good as gauging his emotions as Doyoung is, because he can’t keep the offense from rising to his face, to take over his features like a mad storm. He twists his lips into a frown, but keeps his silence.

“You try to manipulate anyone, hurt anyone, document _ anything_, and I will not hesitate to shoot you.” Jaehyun can almost feel the cold emanating off the gun’s barrel against his forehead in that moment. “This isn’t a game for us. I’d like to keep it that way.” Then, he leaves, leaves Jaehyun in the dust.

It angers him, that this man who terms himself to care for his circus, can also be so inhumane, so robotic. He gives Jaehyun no room to move, _ on a leash_. Jaehyun’s the prisoner now, no mistakes to be made or he’s dead. Maybe that’s how it feels to be like them.

Jaehyun peels himself away from the confines of his corner in the train car by around midday, adamant not to meet Doyoung after the morning encounter. But after some reassurance from Chenle, which is less reassurance and more laughing at Jaehyun’s mild fear of their ringmaster, he finally leaves, mind set on doing some more exploring to make up for his inability to write without maybe getting killed.

He finds Ten inside the main tent, its curtain drawn up to reveal the poles that hold it up, natural sunlight flooding in. Jungwoo is quietly setting up the spotlights on the side, balancing on a ladder and humming to himself as he fits the rods together. 

Ten’s perched on top of the pink silks attached to the scaffolding, legs and arms intertwined in the cloths near the tip of the tent. He lets go of the piece in his hand, and he unfurls himself from the knot, rolling down, closer and closer to the sand, until he jolts to a stop a short few feet from the sandpit.

Jaehyun makes his way in, finding a brown-haired man along the side, his arms crossed as he watches Ten twist the silk around his torso. He bites his lip to keep from smiling when he sees the absolute exhilaration and joy on Ten’s face when he reaches the floor.

“Taeyong!” Ten yells, and how he managed to climb to the top already, Jaehyun isn’t sure. “Watch this new one!”

Ten only has silk tied around his ankles and feet, and he holds his arms over his head, spreading his legs until he’s in oversplits midair. 

“Great. Keep going and you’ll snap your legs off.” Taeyong laughs to himself at his joke, a hand covering his mouth.

He’s dainty, like Ten, lithe and pale, with a body like that of a dancer. But unlike Ten, who’s probably worked years on his craft to achieve an athletic build suited for his line of work, Taeyong doesn’t have those muscles, and is thin, almost sickly so. 

He notices Jaehyun lingering from afar and turns to smile brightly at him, his hair glowing slightly more bronze instead when facing Jaehyun full on. 

“Hello, stranger!”

Jaehyun sends a closed-lipped smile back and makes his way to stand next to him. From below, the two watch Ten quickly untie himself from the silks so that it's only wrapped around his ankle. He hangs upside down like a corpse, letting gravity pull his limbs down. 

Taeyong giggles. “Sometimes I wonder why he didn’t decide to become a clown.” His laughs taper off into a silent grin to himself, as if too shy to allow Jaehyun to judge his sense of humor. “Too talented for that, maybe.”

He’s a curious fellow, Jaehyun. It’s why he does what he does, why he’s managed to destroy potential relationships with his unfiltered words. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and from his _ talk_, to put it mildly, with Doyoung this morning, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were killed within the next few days. 

And Taeyong and Ten make Jaehyun _ curious_. 

He holds back though, he’s not going to prod too much because the way Taeyong looks down at his toes when Jaehyun opens his mouth, ready to ask a question, makes him pity the shy man. 

Ten slides down the silk, still graceful as always, and he jumps off near the bottom, kicking up puffs of sand and dust. He glances at his palm, frowning, and then picks at a stray callous that most likely formed within the past few hours. 

“Yong, pass the chalk!”

Taeyong slips away silently as Ten approaches them. Jaehyun visibly gulps.

“How’s Doyoung’s infamous hospitality?” Ten says. He reaches past Jaehyun to grab a roll of white tape. “Good, it seems? You’re not dead yet.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jaehyun responds, tucking his hands into the loose pockets of his pants. “He talked to me this morning. Didn’t go too well.”

Ten rips the end of the tape with his teeth, wrapping it around his palms in a practiced manner. “Pull a gun out at all?”

“Lord, no. Threatened to, though.”

Ten stops abruptly, glancing up at Jaehyun with quirked brows. “So you went against his command.” It’s not a question.

“Protested a bit. Pulled his tail.” Jaehyun shrugged. “Tell me, he’s not used to not getting his way, yes?”

“Not since I finally limited my insults, no.” Ten smirks, tossing the roll of tape to the pile of equipment. But his smirk isn’t mischievous, there’s a dark gleen to it, as if he’d been planning an evil scheme that he just thought of a perfect finale for. “It’s a douse of cold water for him, I’m sure.” 

He shakes out his hair, wisps of white powder flying to the floor, and he winces. “Hold on, I’m indecent.”

Ten disappears in the blink of an eye, and Jaehyun’s sure his jaw falls to the ground, just like the first time he saw him go invisible. In a moment, Ten’s back, hand running through his black hair, the bangs falling back into place. 

“Anyways.” Ten’s demeanor changes immediately, as fast as he appeared in front of Jaehyun. “I hope you’re not here doing what they all think you are.”

“Which is?”

“Exposing us. We’re a hoard of sewer rats to you, worthless and revolting, yet you want us dead despite us having done absolutely nothing to wrong you.” Ten loses his smile, and it disappears behind the shadow of his hair, away from Jaehyun. “I don’t like you, Jung, and I probably never will. One wrong step and you’ll be as good as dead.”

Jaehyun sucks in his cheeks and nods, biting on the skin inside nervously. He spots a block of white sailing overhead, towards Ten’s neck at a startling speed. Ten turns, catching it in one hand, and sends a glare at the sheepish looking Taeyong. 

“And don’t go breaking my death threat record.”

Then, he’s gone again, grabbing the silk and pulling it around him. The cloth flutters in a circle, then whisks away, and it’s as if Ten was never there at all. 

Taeyong steps back up next to Jaehyun and lends an apologetic smile. “Ten isn’t always so—” Taeyong’s fingers flex a few times as he contemplates, searching for the right word. “So _ abrupt_. Cheeky, yes, but not usually threatening.”

“I’m not too excited that multiple people here seem to want to kill me.”

“They’ll come around, I’m sure.” Taeyong glances to his wrist, empty except for a thin strip of white, Jaehyun can’t get a clearer view, because he hides it behind his back just as fast. “He’s just as protective of Doyoung and the circus as Doyoung himself is.”

They watch as Ten bends himself backwards, in half, sending a distasteful look their way. Jaehyun shudders, his spine feeling slightly sore for some reason. 

“You better get going. Ten’s going to twist himself into a knot the angrier he gets.” Taeyong sighs. “I don’t want to be the one to have to pop his limbs back into place later.”

“I wanted to ask a few more questions, if you’re alright with that.”

Taeyong blanches, and his fingers go back to hold his wrists, pinching the white bracelet. He takes in a labored breath, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t have much to say, really.”

“About your life here. Your life before. How it’s changed, things like that,” Jaehyun rambles, but then Ten’s landed on the sand in front of him again, a wisp of dust swirling around him.

Taeyong’s shaking, at this point. “Ten—”

“You bothering him now, Jung?” Ten holds a wide stance, grounding himself. He must know how to fight, too. “What did we say about staying in line?”

“He wasn’t bothering me—”

“Taeyong, don’t lie,” Ten seethes, but the anger isn’t directed at his friend, it’s meant to reverberate to Jaehyun a few steps away. He gets closer to Jaehyun, and they’re face to face. “You think you’re too good for us? Out to prance around here like you own it?”

Jaehyun clenches his jaw. “I never said that.”

Ten laughs without humor. “But you think it, don’t you? You squeeze information out of the young ones ‘cause they’re the easiest target, huh? We see you—”

“You have no right to accuse me of that.” Jaehyun grits his teeth to keep himself from physically lashing out. “You’re not so perfect yourself, are you? Your little circus stunt here is just an inadequate replacement for whatever shit family that abandoned you in the first place.”

Ten takes it as a bullet to the shoulder, but comes back with even more strength. “You think you’re intimidating?”

Jaehyun crosses his arms, and he can tell Taeyong is tensing up on the side, trying to pry Ten away. “More intimidating than twirling around in some silk.”

“At least I’m not here sneaking around like a fucking rat. Tell me, do you enjoy peeking in on private matters that much?”

He can’t back down, not with his pride on the line. “That’s not—”

Ten’s about to pull his fist back, and Jaehyun doesn’t react, it goes too fast, and then Taeyong’s shoving Ten aside with his shoulder, to keep him away from Jaehyun. He takes a couple steps away as Taeyong holds Ten back by the waist, eyes wide, pleading for help.

Right then, Yuta trots in on a golden-haired mare, a scowl on his face when he spots Ten growling at Jaehyun, and his lips twist into a frown when he sees Jaehyun himself. “Jung. I need you to help me with the horses.”

“I’m quite busy, actually.”

“_It’s not up for debate_.” Yuta reaches down and tugs Jaehyun’s shirt collar, and the mare slowly trots back towards the exit. “Ten doesn’t get the pleasure of killing you today.” 

Yuta whips his horse around, and she snorts, maybe laughing at Jaehyun, who gets a face full of coarse tail hair. Jaehyun follows, reluctant, and not without receiving another withering glare from Ten.

Thankfully, Yuta doesn’t bring Jaehyun to Doyoung, or anything that would result in his near death for provoking someone. Instead, they’re in the temporary stables, just a set of fencing under the trees, hammered into the dirt. There’s hay scattered in the corners of each stall and a trough of water filled and laying on the floor. 

Yuta silently hands him a brush from a bucket, and then proceeds to kick open the latch of the fence, allowing Jaehyun into the stable. He then trots with the mare, who Yuta introduces as Montana, into her own living area, dismounts, and pats her proudly on the back.

Jaehyun hesitantly reaches towards the spotted black and white stallion in front of him. It steps away, swinging its tail when Jaehyun barely makes contact with its body.

“Washington. Calm down.” Yuta sends the stallion a pointed look, and the horse seems to continue the staring battle with its owner, before shaking its head. Jaehyun tries again, and it hardly flinches as he drags the brush down its back.

They work in silence, Yuta picking Montana’s hoof, Jaehyun brushing Washington’s coat. It’s smooth, not coarse like its hair, well-trimmed and maintained. Washington doesn’t move even when Jaehyun runs his hand down its neck, awed by its muscle composition. He’s never seen a real horse, much less brushed one.

“There are some snacks for him in the bag. Feel free to feed him,” Yuta says, motioning at the bag in the corner. He gives Montana a pat on her hind before jumping the fencing to another mare, one with a reddish coat.

Jaehyun reaches down and finds a carrot. Washington immediately jolts down to bite at it, and his crunches fill the silence. 

There’s still a hint of anger brewing within Jaehyun, but it’s died down since. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows, logically, it’s his fault. He had poked at a sleeping lion and nearly had his hand bitten off. Ten, like everyone else in the circus, has every right to distrust Jaehyun, and to express as so. But Jaehyun doesn’t back down from fights.

He stores away his anger in favor of grooming the horse in front of him peacefully.

“Yuta,” Jaehyun starts, “Who exactly was Sicheng referring to before we ran?”

Yuta stiffens, pausing his wide strokes across the brown mare’s legs. He puts the brush down and leans back against the fence, closing his eyes and resting his head on the pole behind him. Then, he lets out a sigh, and his eyes are piercingly bright with something close to hatred. “Johnny. He’s a famous hunter who works for the government, tasked to kill all magic users he encounters. You’ve heard how we’ve been disgraced to the point of having to disappear off the face of the earth to survive, I’m sure. Doyoung’s especially dramatic about that.”

Jaehyun shudders, remembering the harsh words from the morning. “So you’ve never been caught.”

“He’s gotten close a few times. But he’s who we’re running from. He’s the only one, or so I’ve heard, who’s able to actually execute us. Our magic has a protective layer that humans can’t penetrate, but he’s different. Deadly.” Yuta sucks in a breath. “If we had left you behind, I’m sure he would have killed you for whatever little information you had.”

Jaehyun glances down at the little black tattoo, fresh on his skin, still slightly red as it heals. “This protects us from him completely?”

“Not just this.” Yuta snaps out of whatever entrancement he was in when mentioning the hunter, grabbing an apple this time out of the bag, which the mare, Yuta whispers her name as Arizona, munches on happily. “Doyoung protects us. I’m not sure how, his presence itself is powerful, we can feel it. His magic has always been… a vague subject. Nothing like the rest of us. But he’s done nothing to hurt us, he’s kept us together for the longest time, and I doubt knowing how his magic actually works will change his place here.”

So Doyoung really does mean something to the members. Considering how cold he’s been, Jaehyun might as well have thought _ he _were the jailer keeping these people as exotic entertainment sources.

Jaehyun just nods and mutters an, “Interesting,” under his breath.

Just then, Chenle bounces in, his golden hair matching the golden sun rays falling around them. “Yuta! I was looking for— Aha, Jaehyun! We need a test subject!”

Yuta hops over another fence, to Jaehyun’s stall, and plucks the leaf of the eaten carrot out of his hand. “Take him, Chenle.” He offers a small shove on the shoulder, making Jaehyun stumble.

“You aren’t going to believe what Jisung and I came up with earlier…”

Turns out, Jaehyun really couldn’t believe it. Jisung’s sleight of hand with his cards was impressive, extremely so, but at least it was believable, the idea of those cards disappearing and reappearing in Jaehyun’s pocket a palpable, well-practiced trick. But now, the duo is sitting across from Jaehyun, Jisung instructing Jaehyun to lay his hand flat, palm down, on the card table in front of him.

Chenle shifts silently, morphing smaller and smaller until he’s a dove, hopping onto the table. 

“Watch your hand carefully,” Jisung says, rolling up the sleeve of Jaehyun's shirt to reveal his forearm. Jisung closes his eyes, his fingers hovering above Jaehyun's hands. 

Jaehyun watches as dark swirls appear at the top of his fingers, twisting and twirling down each of his fingers to the back of his hand. Pink petals grow out of each black branch, budding and blossoming quickly, and some flow gently off the tree and to his forearm, carried by some imaginary wind. 

Jisung scrunches his nose in concentration and finally lifts his hand. Jaehyun stares in awe at the branches and flowers, waving back and forth on his skin, a moving painting. 

Chenle hops onto Jisung’s finger, and Jisung brushes the soft white feathers carefully, before covering him with a palm, swiping across quickly, and the bird vanishes.

Jisung then taps the branch on Jaehyun's hand twice with a finger, and then a white bird the size of his fingertip appears, and it flies, around the trunk and up his arm. It settles on branch and pecks at a flower.

“How did you—“

Jisung covers Jaehyun's hand again for a moment, and when he reveals it, his skin is back to normal, and Jisung has a dove with a pink flower in its beak sitting on his fingers. 

The bird, with a series of light crackling bones, shifts back to the blonde boy sitting on the table, cross-legged.

“So, what did you think?” Chenle says, a hopeful smile ready to make its way onto his face.

“Absolutely spectacular.” Jaehyun lifts his arm to the light and twists it back and forth, examining the unmarred skin. “I thought you would have wanted to cut my arm off.”

Jisung, shy and quiet Jisung, laughs lightly. “That’s boring, and too bloody for children.”

“He’s just a sucker for elegance,” Chenle says, elbowing his best friend, and Jisung simply holds on to his little smile, a pucker that reminds Jaehyun of a baby. He is, after all, the youngest, and the two still have an aura of childishness that the rest of the seven younger have long grown out of, forced away from them. He’s glad that there’s some sort of youth maintained. 

The two continue their chatter, while Jaehyun observes his surroundings once again, this time in broad daylight. There’s a light summer breeze, the sun thankfully not too hot despite the time of year. The grass around them, green, crisp, blowing with the occasional flap of the tent fabric.

Peaceful. 

He didn’t ask for the trouble in the morning; it had come to him simply because of his existence there, and that had angered him beyond compare. He hated being judged in that sense, because he had no chance for explanation and redemption, and it made him so helpless. That’s something that he can’t shake out of his head, knowing that he’s distrusted so much. 

The rational part of his mind knows he shouldn’t feel this growing resentment, because he got himself in such a predicament in the first place. If the roles were reversed… Jaehyun would say that whatever clueless magic user that stepped into their little town may have been hunted down and murdered within the day. He should be grateful. 

He forces that thought to consume his mind instead. Better than the churning of fire in the pit of his stomach.

Jaehyun stares forlornly at the glass shards sitting on the small table next to his bed He’s been prodding at them for the past half hour, mindlessly arranging, disassembling, and rearranging them into a jagged circle that faintly resembles the shape of the lens that it used to be. He hopes that maybe if he thinks hard enough, they’ll magically glue themselves back together.

“I’m worried, Haechan. She’s really sick. Is she mad at me again? Did I do something? Oh god, she’s probably dying... What if—”

“Mark, please shut up.” It’s Mark’s voice cutting himself off, though Jaehyun knows it’s Haechan who’s talking behind the divider that separates their rooms. Otherwise, he may have thought Mark had gone delirious. 

Jaehyun smiles. He had witnessed Haechan’s power in action earlier that afternoon during another eventful lunch with the cabinmates, in which he had snickered behind a hand, watching Chenle silently slap at Haechan after he had stolen Chenle’s voice, effectively cutting off the shapeshifter’s rambling. Haechan only responded with Chenle’s signature high-pitched laughter. 

“Stop laughing at yourself,” Jaemin had commented, just a hint of snark in his voice, adding more fuel to the fire as the boys around Jaehyun launched into a giggling fit at Chenle, who had started pounding his fist at Haechan even harder until the other finally relented and returned his voice.

The two-way conversation with only Mark’s voice serves as a reminder of what Jaehyun doesn’t have. He doesn’t fit in here, without the magic. Even Taeil had worked his way in, but that’s reliant on the fact that he _ knew _about this world before. Jaehyun, he knows nothing, can do nothing, powerless and lost. He hates it.

“Virginia is going to be fine, just relax. I’m sure she’s not mad at you. If she was, you’d have taken the burden the moment you felt it. She loves you. And if she doesn’t love you…” Haechan pretends to ponder for a moment. “I’ll love you, so it’s _ okay_.”

“You know it’s weird when you say it in my voice,” Mark replies, sighing lightly after Jaehyun assumes he’s gotten his voice back.

“Makes it seem like you’re a bit pretentious, doesn’t it?” Haechan says, and Jaehyun can see his shadow on the paper divider of their rooms lean closer to Mark’s.

“_Very pretentious_.”

“Here. Let’s try again.” Haechan’s voice lowers to a whisper, the shadows merging into one. “I love you.”

Another soft sigh, without the exasperation this time. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Just say it back!”

“Fine.”

Jaehyun tunes out, everything a little too intimate for him to continue eavesdropping on. But it’s all a little odd to him, how unlikely of a couple Haechan and Mark are; the former’s snarkiness and the latter’s cold demeanor should have mixed like oil and water. The odds were in their favor, perhaps.

He returns to the glass puzzle in his hands, putting a smaller shard between his thumb and index finger, rolling the sharp piece back and forth against the light.

The light is then cut off in an instant, and Jaehyun flinches, pinching his finger instinctively. The shard pierces his skin, and he drops it into the floorboards, hissing, and proceeds to try and suck the blood from the cut on his finger. 

“Oh Jaehyun, do you know where Mark is?” Doyoung asks when he spots him, then raises an eyebrow at the sight of Jaehyun with his thumb in his mouth. “You could go get Jaemin to heal that if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just a small graze.” Jaehyun waves it off.

“Suit yourself.” 

Jaehyun hums and goes back to tinkering aimlessly with the body of his camera this time.

“Staring at it isn’t going to fix it,” Doyoung says with amusement.

Jaehyun knows he’s right, but still continues to mess with it, until it’s plucked right out of his hands.

“You’ve already cut yourself with it once, so I’ll be taking this before someone else gets hurt as well. You won’t be needing it while you’re here, and besides,” Doyoung grabs the strap and swings the camera around precariously, “It’s broken. Stop trying to fix unfixable things.”

Jaehyun is quiet for a breath, then gives up after deciding that being hung up over it isn’t going to do him any good. He gathers the glass shards and places them inside his camera bag, handing the whole thing to Doyoung.

“Now, where’s Mark?”

_ Right_, Jaehyun thinks. _ That’s what he was here for_.

“He’s in his room with Haechan.” 

Doyoung quickly pushes aside the divider between Jaehyun’s space and Mark’s, revealing the two boys lying next to each other on Mark’s bed, bodies tucked into each other’s arms.

“Stop moping. Get up. Yuta says you can see her now,” he commands, sending the two in a frenzy to stand up.

“What did he say?” Mark’s eyes are wide.

“See for yourself.” Doyoung turns on his heel and heads back outside, only pausing at the door to wait for Haechan and Mark to scramble to their feet. “Come along, now.” Doyoung fixates his gaze to Jaehyun this time, who is still sitting idly in his corner.

Haechan and Mark hop eagerly out of the car, and Jaehyun follows a short distance behind. Maybe whatever it is going on will distract him from the loss of his leather satchel on his hip.

When they arrive at the makeshift animal enclosure, Mark immediately runs through the gate to the tigress, laying a short distance away from the rest. Yuta’s sitting cross-legged beside her, running his hand up and down her side.

Mark lands on his knees in front of her and rubs the spot under her ear, eliciting a soft mewl. Haechan stops close behind, squatting down beside him.

“What happened?”

Yuta’s face is blank and solemn. “You don’t want to know.”

“_What? _”

“She…” Yuta closes his eyes, shaking his head. “She’s in a lot of pain.”

Mark grasps Virginia’s fur, pressing his forehead to her snout. “Yuta, just tell me.”

Yuta pats her stomach a few times. “Virginia, what’s wrong?”

The tigress snorts air into Mark’s face, shaking her head. She moves her paw to nudge at Mark’s arm.

“She called you an idiot.”

“Virginia!”

Haechan snickers. “That’s my girl.”

Yuta’s smile bursts on his face. “Congratulations, Mark, you’re going to be a grandfather.”

Mark’s mouth falls open as Haechan throws his arms around Virginia. “Oh, there’s going to be cubs! This is wonderful,” Haechan nuzzles into the scruff of her neck. “We’re going to be grandparents…”

The surprise wears away, and Mark smiles fondly at the sight, scratching under Virginia’s chin. She stretches out her limbs and curls into herself, letting out a satisfied breath.

It’s such a sweet scene, Jaehyun would love to capture it in the moment. He really did take that beautiful machine for granted.

“Jaehyun, Jungwoo wanted your help with the last bit of set up, if you will,” Doyoung interrupts, hands in pockets with his chin tilted towards in the direction of the main tent. “It’ll be the last thing for the day, I’m sure.”

Jaehyun nods, a little reluctant to leave, but the miniature family should get some time alone, so he heads off again to do something that wouldn’t serve as a sore reminder for everything he could only wish to have.

Jaehyun’s his own person, he’s always lived by that philosophy, and whatever warning Doyoung gave him that morning flies out of his mind when he gets his hands on the beautiful leather of his notebook. Now that his camera’s out of the question, he’ll have to record everything he can by hand. He settles on the thin mattress, back resting against the wall, and a single candle lit on the crate beside him. With a blue fountain pen in hand, he writes.

The rest of his cabinmates have long gone to sleep, probably because of whatever ridiculously strict bedtime Doyoung had set simply because they were barely adults. He pulled his divider as far out as he could to keep the candlelight to himself.

The sound of gentle snores and the pen scratching paper fill the night, and it reminds Jaehyun of home. A sense of homesickness falls in the pit of his stomach. He really isn’t suited for long term travel, it seems.

An hour or so into his notetaking, he hears a meek whisper from a voice that’s hardly ever used quietly. “Jisungie, I can’t sleep.”

Jaehyun slowly places his pen down, and glances past the divider and through the darkness. He spots Chenle’s blonde head moving away from the bed nearest to the car’s door, cracked open slightly to let in cool air through the night.

A hand beckons the boy over. Jisung’s, Jaehyun assumes. 

The blonde hair disappears within the second, merging with the darkness, and Jaehyun has to squint to see what’s happening. Now, the moonlight glares against the light fur of a bunny, a similar blonde caramel as the boy it was a moment ago.

Jisung opens his arms for the bunny to crawl into, and gently cradles it into his chest, cheek resting against the pristine fur. His thumb smooths unconsciously over the back of its head, and the bunny snuggles in closer, head tucked under Jisung’s chin.

Jaehyun looks back down at his notebook, before closing it and sliding it back into his bag, and finally blowing out the half-burnt candle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anything can happen with magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! It's been a bad start to the school year for us both, and it's been very, very rough. So, no promised updates, especially throughout October (because standardized tests :/ ).
> 
>   
working title: potato are friends, not food, said nobody ever

Jaehyun isn’t quite sure why Taeyong called him of all people up at sunrise, asking for help in the kitchen. He supposes it’s because Taeyong wants aid from someone who doesn’t have the stress of another show looming over their head. Or maybe he knows how unaccustomed Jaehyun’s sleep schedule is now that he’s away from his own bed, and he’s offering some idle work to get the differing of lives off his mind. Either way, he’s glad that Taeyong isn’t hostile with him like nearly everyone else at the circus is. 

He even trusts Jaehyun with a set of sharp knives to work with for the morning, despite how his hand still cramps slightly from the amount of notes he wrote the night before.

They set to work, sitting on a barrel each, a bucket between them for peel scraps. With a carrot and a knife in each hand, they set to work, skinning enough vegetables to feed a caravan of growing boys and men. 

Jaehyun’s distracted by the white band around Taeyong’s wrist though, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, the white band he glimpsed the day before. Now, as he slices the carrots into halves, he casually shifts his gaze to what he presumes as a bracelet, unpatterned, simply a thin strip of white string knotted to become sturdier. It seems rather unconventional to wear such a delicate thing, the accessory adding little to any outfit. Odd.

“How’s the circus life been treating you?” Taeyong attempts, breaking the silence, “Are they giving you a hard time? Is Chenle being too intrusive? I swear, that boy has no sense of self-control… though he did grow up in a rather unorthodox manner. I guess you can’t be too hard on him.” He pauses. “Pass me another carrot, will you?”

Jaehyun does as asked. “He’s been good, as good as a teenage boy growing up in a circus can be, I’d say.” He tosses his finished carrot into another bucket. “I do find Mark and Ten have been… a bit more than frosty.”

Taeyong sighs, and the way he cuts off the head of the carrot is more than menacing. “Ten’s always like that with newcomers. Mark as well. They were the first two Doyoung found, _ saved_.” He purses his lips, considering his words. “Mark was barely fourteen, left on the streets half dead with a baby tiger as his only source of warmth. Doyoung managed to cure him and protect him, and they found Ten not long after. It must be a sense of possessiveness.”

Jaehyun shudders. It made sense, just slightly, how their horrid upbringing may have skewed their view of humans. “Are they like that with everyone?”

“Oh, they’ll warm up soon, I’m sure of it.” Taeyong stands, grabbing the filled bucket of chopped carrots and hauling them over to the counter. He then pulled out a sack of potatoes, dumping them into another bucket to wash. “Ten was really hesitant when I first arrived too, considering my less than adequate reputation. And Mark, he’s- I despise using this word- _ broken_. He didn’t have a reason to be happy until Haechan came along.”

_ Reputation. _ That’s the one phrase that sticks to his mind. He blames it on years of journalism that’s taught him to focus on the little things. “What _ did _you do… before?”

Taeyong lifts the bucket of potatoes back to their temporary station, dropping it with a thud. His honey hair flashes, and Jaehyun thinks it’s a trick of the light, but the roots shift black, coloring the fibers until the brown is replaced completely by the new ebony. When Taeyong notices Jaehyun’s open jaw, his hands fly up to his hair. The color slowly drains away as he takes another deep breath.

“I’d rather not say, but it wasn’t a pretty place. Doyoung… He took me under his arm and saved me from there.” Jaehyun has a few places in mind he can infer, and it hurts him to think of sweet loving Taeyong stuck there. “I was horrible. But the circus was a second chance for me. All of us. I didn’t have to hide.”

“But you haven’t always been the cook here… Have you?”

Taeyong takes personal offense to that, pointing his knife at Jaehyun, the half-peeled potato forgotten in his other hand. “Do you really think I’m that talentless? I can change my appearance to anything in the world, for god’s sake!”

“No! Of course not!” Jaehyun rambles, and Taeyong’s face begins to morph. Jaehyun’s met with his own face for a moment, with wide eyes and worry in his features that must mirror his real expression. Then, Taeyong shifts back, the nose, the hair, the eyes, melding back.

A second passes before Taeyong laughs it off, but there’s not much humor in it. He drops the knife back to the potato, this time, peeling it with much less precision than before, chunks flying into the wastebasket, leaving a lopsided object that resembled more of a cut crystal than potato. “I used to be in an act with Ten. Trapeze, when there were fewer of us. But we’ve got some more people now, _ younger people_, and I can retire from that brief stunt.”

Jaehyun hums in agreement, and they focus on the potatoes once again. 

A smooth voice interrupts them, though, as Haechan saunters in and calls a quiet, “Hello there, Jaehyun!” His head pokes up from behind the pile of fresh-baked bread that Taeyong had left out to cool, eyeing them greedily. A gloved hand reaches into the basket, but halts when Taeyong narrows his eyes at him. 

“Get out of my kitchen, Haechan!” Taeyong shouts, waving his knife in the air again. Maybe he should join Jeno in his act, with the amount of threatening he does with the sharp cutlery.

“But I’m hungry! You can’t let one of your best acts starve, can you?” Haechan pulls a pout.

“You have to wait like everyone else.”

“B-but,” Haechan stammers, but it’s easily just for show. “You let Jaehyun in!”

Taeyong sighs, exasperation in his voice. “He’s not eating anything.”

Haechan draws the corner of his mouth into a deeper frown, jutting his lip out more, like that of a begging puppy, and he might as well begin to whimper. 

“Nevermind, both of you, get out!” Taeyong gestures at the open tent flap with his knife. “Jaehyun, drop the potato, that’s mine!”

The half-cut potato falls out of his hand and into the bucket. 

“Fine. Come on, Jaehyun. We’ll leave this prude alone to his wallowing.” Haechan leans over and grabs Jaehyun by the elbow, dragging him out of the tent. On the way out, he mutters to himself, “Why does he have to be so protective of his food?”

The circus is bustling already despite the early hour, though there’s a grogginess that fills the air. The sun had just cracked the horizon’s glass, the morning still crisp and cool, a gentle contrast against the heat that comes with noon. Not all of the circus members are awake yet, but he spots Yuta saddling up one of his horses already, as well as Jungwoo and Lucas speaking in measured voices as they head towards the main tent. 

Without the work Taeyong supplied, Jaehyun is determined to find other things to do, to fill his time here. But, as he’s about to wander off, Haechan clings onto his arm, pulling him against the direction he intended.

“Stay with me, please? Everyone’s practicing, and I get bored easily.” Haechan blinks a couple times up at him. “_Please? _”

Jaehyun can’t help but scoff a little. “You can’t possibly be bored. I’ve had absolutely no purpose here whatsoever, and _ you’re bored? _”

“That’s not a way to treat a kid!” Haechan whines, scrunching his brows and puckering his lips. “See, there’s a flaw to your argument. If you’re bored, and so am I, then we should talk so neither of us have to suffer!”

“No.” Jaehyun tries to pull his arm out of Haechan’s grip, but he tugs on him again. “Haechan, you _ must _ have something to do.”

Haechan lets go, drops his arms to his side, a sigh of defeat halfway out of his mouth when he perks up, eyes alight. “I need to show you something. I promise, you’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not going to fall for that-”

But Haechan is off already, heading straight towards the front of the train, towards Doyoung’s office in the second car. 

Jaehyun follows, reluctant, and when Haechan cracks the door open, he peeks inside, then glances at his surroundings, and finally signals for Jaehyun to keep an eye out for him. He slips inside the car, and Jaehyun’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. 

The whole sneaking around situation doesn’t settle well with him anymore.

Haechan pops back out a minute later with a skip to his step, a cardboard box in hand, and leads Jaehyun away again.

They end up in a clearing of flowers a short distance away, covered by a field of tall grasses that hides the two of them as they sit. Haechan greedily snatches the lid off the box.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen at the sight.

“I knew you’d like it!”

He picks up several pieces of the worn-out paper at once, yellowed and crinkled, with some corners and edges ripped and deteriorating. Each piece he holds delicately, afraid it’ll disintegrate in his hand, but the content of the headlines might as well be the most fragile part of it.

Each a different reporter’s take on magic, all from obscure publishers. These must have been very carefully distributed to not make it into the hands of the outside world.

“Mark and I found this while we were sneaking around Doyoung’s office a while ago. I think he likes to keep up with the community through these since we’re always out and about,” Haechan pipes up, taking a small picture cutout from the box. “We used to get these weekly, sometimes even more, from what I’ve organized, but Doyoung just suddenly stopped collecting them after a bit. The last one I found was from last spring.”

The first one that specifically catches Jaehyun’s eye is in full capital letters, a warning, with grainy, black and white images tacked next to a short paragraph. He skims through it quickly, and it evokes a gnawing pain in his chest. 

Government officials sweeping through the city, sniffing for any trace of magic. Unwarranted house searches that left rooms upturned and destroyed. Children were dragged out of their parents’ arms by heavily armed policemen. Innocents arrested for simply being near the mere trickle of magic left in the air by an escapee. There had been a time out in the city that Jaehyun was unaware of, a gruesome, gruesome time. 

“Have you read all of these?” 

Haechan nods, grim. “I think they’ve stopped publishing as a whole since magical activity died down. The risk isn’t worth it anymore.”

Most of the papers don’t go into the explicits of the inevitable execution of magic users, remaining more as a guide and warning to stay safe instead. There’s another article asking those who are safely hidden from the prime of the city to harbor those who barely escaped the government raids. The newspaper, a few days later, reported a small family of smiling children, varied in age, with a long-haired woman, who had created a temporary safe house in the woods to keep the youngest away from the grasp of their enemy. Jaehyun had to glance over that picture a few times, as one of the children seemed almost recognizable. But that’s absolutely impossible, the only children he knew are the ones from home, and no child has left his town before, their families having tied their roots to the ground for generations. Unless-

Haechan leans over towards Jaehyun and studies the picture for a moment. He points at the child in question, his lips quirking into a small smile, albeit sad. “Jeno. And Jaemin, right beside him.”

Jaehyun had guessed most of them would have suffered through the government raids and stigma against them that would leave them out on the streets for the dead. But seeing the physical evidence… 

He flips to the next page. The little cabin in the woods was diminished to nothing but a pile of ashes, burnt down by a group of off-duty officers that managed to drunkenly stumble upon the safe house. The caretaker turned herself in for the sake of the children, gave them enough time to run as far out into the woods as possible. Most of them didn’t make it.

“Doyoung probably locked these away in his office in case any of us find it. He should have locked his entire car, though.” Haechan pauses for a moment. “Actually, that wouldn’t work either. I know how to pick locks.”

Jaehyun drops the remaining clippings back into the box, a bit too queasy to go through any more without guilt wanting to force its way out of his throat. “Why don’t we know about this? It’s _ genocide_.”

“Because it’ll be even worse for us if the entire other half of the population knew. Not all people are as… receptive as you are.” Haechan puts the lid back on the box and tucks it under his arm. He scans the grass field in case Doyoung had made his way back, and deems it safe. “We hide, both our existence and our suffering. At least less of us will die that way.”

When the sun is setting and the faintest glimpses of the stars start to appear, Jaehyun finds himself seated next to Doyoung, who’s not brooding for the first time in his life. Jaehyun’s usual band of teenagers have decided to play tag outside on the field rather than eating in their normal corner of the big top. He had followed them outside at first, too uncomfortable to join anyone else. He supposes Taeyong could have been an option, but he was huddled with Ten, who he’d rather not be near at the moment with their unresolved scuffle from yesterday still hanging over his head. He settled a short distance away, watching Jeno stuff the last of his bread quickly into his mouth so he could join their game of rock paper scissors to determine the unfortunate soul who would have to be “it”. 

Doyoung had joined him shortly after, taking a seat next to Jaehyun on a pile of wooden crates, explaining that if he didn’t keep an eye on the kids, they’d probably accidentally commit a murder that Doyoung didn’t particularly want to deal with.

Jaehyun can see why Doyoung was concerned as he watches Chenle flash between animals, from a little parrot squawking directly into Haechan’s ear, then a large grey-haired wolf shoving at the back of Jaemin’s legs, and lastly, a butterfly sitting on a wisp of Mark’s hair. Then, Jeno pulls out a paring knife from his boots and runs a finger along the edge.

“He knows that the other kids will likely die if he stabs them, right?” Jaehyun warns.

“I’m not sure why he keeps trying to intimidate them like that.” Doyoung sighs, then calls out, “Lee Jeno, put that knife away!”

“That’s not fair! The rest of them can use their powers!”

Jaehyun can’t exactly see the face Doyoung sends their way that makes Jeno huff and throw the knife towards the nearest fence, embedding the metal into the wood, but it must have been near menacing. 

“If I lose, I blame you.”

“You can’t make Doyoung do the punishment, it defeats the whole point of the game!” Haechan whines.

Renjun shoves his elbow into Haechan’s side. “Shush, we’re not going to finish the game by curfew at this rate.”

So they begin, and a look of utter devastation makes its way onto Jeno’s face when he loses the final round of rock paper scissors, and the rest of the group sprints outwards in different directions.

Doyoung seems to relax now, the first time since Jaehyun joined, as he leans onto the back of the crates, a hint of fondness resting on his sharp features. Jaehyun’s gaze switches between Doyoung and the scene he’s surveying of a golden retriever barking at Jaemin as they chase each other in circles.

Jeno jogs past the two of them, and huffs out, “See, not fair. Chenle gets to be _ anything _ and I can’t even use a knife to threaten them?”

“He’s not going to make anyone bleed,” Doyoung replies, nonchalant, but with a hint of a smirk still present.

“He will if he turns into a bear or something!”

As if on cue, Chenle shifts to an elephant, and even Renjun lets out a short screech when he sees the giant figure behind him. Jeno runs off again, back into the focus of the game.

“So, Jung, I must assume you knew _ certain things _about us before foolishly searching for an interview. Did you know we were magical beforehand?” Doyoung shoves a forkful of coleslaw into his mouth, and when Jaehyun makes the notion to answer, he points the fork at him. “Don’t answer that. It was a rhetorical question.”

“I did do some research before, you’re right.”

“And what did you find?”

The quirk of Doyoung’s lip isn’t as hateful, it’s full of mirth and maybe even childishness. 

“Not this, that’s for sure.” A distance in front of Jaehyun, Mark closes in on Haechan, latching his arms onto his waist when Haechan slows to a jog. Haechan’s giggles echo across the field when Mark lifts him and swings the two around. “No one remembers your shows. Rather unfortunate, don’t you think?”

Doyoung offers a curt laugh. “I’d say that’s my own fault.”

“So you wipe memories or something?”  
“Not exactly. Sometimes I think that would be easier than what I’ve actually been gifted with…” Doyoung trails off, wistfully pondering, a blurred gaze. 

They don’t know. None of them do, Jaehyun recalls from his conversation with Yuta. Doyoung’s past is as much of a mystery to the circus as it is to Jaehyun. How they can trust their entire lives to someone who’s own life didn’t seem to exist until he reached twenty, it’s a trust that Jaehyun finds himself to value. And to trust him when a much more powerful being is out there, hunting for their blood...

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun treads carefully. “Who exactly is Johnny?”

He hesitates, before asking, “Have you ever heard of the Seo family?”

Jaehyun shakes his head.

“They’re the most notorious magical family in our history. A long lineage of strong magic users who sourced their energy from others. They isolated themselves from the rest of the world, magical and not.” Doyoung pauses for half a second. “Magic users don’t usually move in large groups because it makes it so much easier to track. But the Seo family, they were so powerful that it didn’t matter. They overpowered anyone who tried to threaten them, including the government. Strength in numbers, I say.”

“The government didn’t like that. But the two kept their distance from each other, to keep from completely obliterating each other. They decided to play the humans instead. They set everything up, to have media exploiting the Seo’s and their crimes around the city. That’s when our worlds divided, and magic users were exiled and hidden.” There’s a hint of resentment in Doyoung’s voice, as if personally offended, though this must have happened years ago, long before any of them were born. “And then one day, it’s as if the Seo family just never existed. Gone overnight. Some say they were assassinated. Others think it was a freak accident. No one really knows for sure.” 

“But even though they were gone, it was too late. The damage had been done. Ever since then, the government has been sending hunters after us, the best one being Johnny himself.”

Renjun is riding on Jaemin’s back now, a stray stick in hand that he pokes at Jisung, who’s managed to climb onto Jeno, like a jousting match of sorts. Chenle’s in human form, for the first time, and he’s hopping around in circles as a commentator, miming a microphone to his mouth. Mark is clambering onto Haechan’s back as well, a thin twig in hand, ready for their own turn.

“It’s more common to see magic users living alone. Most magical children grow up on the streets. Most of my boys did.”

“They grew up well,” Jaehyun comments. A genuine compliment.

Doyoung smiles slightly. “They did.”

The game had migrated all around the field, from near the tents, all the way out to where a creek marks the end border into the woods. With the sun completely gone, and the only source of brightness from the lanterns Jungwoo had set up along the outskirts of their area, the boys moved closer.

“Chenle’s an exception, out of them.”

“Oh?”

“He wasn’t cast out on the streets. His family had loved him very much until they were murdered in one of the raids. He watched them get slaughtered in front of his eyes and barely escaped.” Doyoung’s eyes glow faintly with the glimmer of the lanterns as he recalls the precious memory. “Jisung found him, actually. He spotted a little bunny in the woods and brought it to my office. He had these wide puppy eyes and asked me if we could keep it, to help with his magic tricks. I had just said yes when it shifted into a human.”

Speak of the devils, the pair sprints by, Chenle reaching out as far as he could to try and tag Jisung, and failing miserably when he attempts to finish Doyoung’s story at the same time. “He pulled his gun and pointed it at me! I’ve been traumatized ever since.”

Chenle stops in front of them to bend over and catch his breath for a moment. 

“I hardly thought you would be human.”

“Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me now.” Chenle straightens and puffs out his chest. “Blame Jisung.”

And then he’s off again, this time shifting into a lion mid-jump, though only to a small cub Jaehyun could probably fit in his arms.

“Pointing guns at people seems to be a habit of yours,” Jaehyun jokes, and the boys must have great hearing, because they nod and yell a chorus of “Yes!” towards them.

Doyoung scowls and stabs a little too forcefully at his plate, Jaehyun holding in a laugh beside him, covering his smile with a hand. Doyoung seems more human like this, being teased by the boys. They’re brothers, Jaehyun notes, younger siblings endlessly pestering the older one, who could only hold back the mild annoyance. 

Jaehyun guesses this is how his older sister must have felt when they were younger. He silently sends her an apology from halfway across the world. 

“They’re not used to strangers, which may be why they’re so invested in your life,” Doyoung trails on. “Six months, since Haechan last joined. I guess the change in scenery isn’t enough to keep them occupied for long.”

Silence ensues, and they watch Chenle shift into a bear, a little one, who bites onto Jeno’s forearm with its jaws and gnaws happily on it. Jeno stares at him in horror, and Jaemin and Renjun both grab onto Chenle and try to pull him off, to no avail. Jisung only snickers on, not bothering to help.

The peace doesn’t last long. Jaehyun’s attention turns to a movement from the side opposite of the field. He curls in on himself at the sight.

Ten’s walking towards him, but without any sign of anger like Jaehyun had expected. They had let their argument simmer, but not die away, that’s for sure, from the tick of Ten’s brow when he reaches Jaehyun.

Taeyong jogs by him, trying to place a placating hand on his elbow to keep him away, but Ten only shakes it off. 

Jaehyun stands to face Ten, but he’s sure his eyes give away the fear that’s been weighing him down for the past day. 

“Ten, are you alright?” Doyoung asks, putting his food aside. He glances between Ten’s now noticeable bloodthirsty expression and Jaehyun’s stance of defiance.

“I owe you a little something.”

Jaehyun doesn’t register the pain at first, but he knows he hears a crack as the impact of Ten’s fist reverberates through his skull. He trips backwards from the force of the hit, and when the pain washes over him, he collapses to the bench, his hand instinctively jerking up to cover his right eye. There’s no blood, not from what he feels, but it suddenly feels like there’s not enough oxygen to properly move. He hunches over, cradling his head in his hands.

“Ten!” He hears Doyoung shout, and there’s heavy breathing coming from… somewhere. Jaehyun groans when he shifts the pressure he’s placing on his eye socket. It burns and pulses and jabs at his brain enough for him to lose focus on what’s happening around him.

“That’s for the shit you had the audacity to say to me, you bastard.”

Doyoung stands abruptly, holding his arms up between them. “Calm yourself, Ten, I run a circus, not a fighting ring.”

“Motherfucker deserved it.” Then, a wad of spit lands at the base of Jaehyun’s shoe, and if he weren’t so dizzy from the punch, he would have sent his own shot back. Instead, he balls his hand into a fist.

“Get Jaemin, now,” Doyoung hisses at no one in particular, and with his good eye, Jaehyun sees him stalk away, following Ten.

Jaehyun curses from the pain, gritting his teeth, his eye burning even more when tears arise. 

The next hour goes by, and Jaehyun can hardly remember it. Jaemin had arrived in a frenzy and helped him hobble off to his tent. Then, he placed a delicate hand over the wounded eye, grimacing as he observed the damage.

“A burst blood vessel. Damn, Ten throws some hefty punches,” Jaemin mumbles, his fingertips touching Jaehyun’s brow bone. 

The pain should have disappeared. The vein should have stitched itself back together, and the purple bloom around the eye should have vanished, but even as Jaemin concentrates all of his energy into healing the wound, it doesn’t work. Jaehyun only sucks on his teeth when Jaemin removes his hand and stares at it in worry.

“I don’t understand,” Jaemin splutters, and Jeno, who had rushed to help bring Jaehyun to the temporary infirmary, furrows his brows. “It’s never failed before.”

“Well,” Jaehyun groans, poking the bruise with a wince. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“It’s impossible. My magic works on humans too-”

He must have been delirious at this point. He hadn’t experienced a pain as bad as this since he broke his leg in his elementary days, dared to climb a tree far too weak to support his body. So he mumbles, very quietly, and very much to himself, “Anything can happen with magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hope we have what you’ve been looking for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's soft angst but there's also bad humor and other crap we throw in to write a 6k chapter to make up for a month gone. but here's when the real action begins hehe  

> 
> working title: there’s a reason it’s tagged slow burn, not fast sizzle pop fire

Jaehyun’s first most prominent trait he acknowledged about himself is being headstrong. His primary and secondary school years were filled with scuffles with classmates that could have turned into full-on fistfights if the teachers hadn’t found him before he could throw the first punch. He didn’t go around picking fights with people for fun, he couldn’t afford that trouble, but he’d certainly fight for the honor and dignity of himself and his friends and family.

Living in a small town on the way to the city left most of his neighbors rather well off, with a steady job just a short distance away and no need to pay excessive amounts for a nice home when they’re on the outskirts of the city. Most of his friends resided in a row of pearl-columned estates lined up on one street, headed straight for the skyscrapers he can just barely see in the distance.

But he didn’t live there. Considering the amount of time he spent running through marble foyers and presiding on carved mahogany chairs, awaiting a grand feast for dinner with his best friends, he might as well have. But he didn’t. He lived several streets away, in a dingy old cabin that could barely be called home, with two small rooms for a family of six, dilapidated walls ready to crash in on them in a moment’s notice. He grew up with fraying blankets and hand-me-down clothes, with holes in his leather shoes from sprinting through town every morning to deliver the papers for a couple cents a day, with his skin tucked too close to his bones to be healthy. 

He could only experience the luxury of wealth when his friends, unaware of Jaehyun’s true lifestyle, invited him over and provided him with the childhood every young boy would want. But every night he went home, there was a hint of disappointment that he swallowed down. Every night he went home, his sister had on a new piece of clothing or an accessory her friends had gifted her. They didn’t know that she proceeded to take them off and store them in a little box under her bed that was emptied once a month when she went to the pawnshop an hour’s walk out of town because they couldn’t afford even a bike.

Even still, he could never find himself to be embarrassed. Of course, he wished for bigger, better things, but he knew how his father worked himself to the bone to support his parents-in-law, his wife, his children, knew how his mother scraped together whatever she could to run a broken household. They were all just barely getting by, but they were still Jaehyun’s family.

When the school bully accosted him, however, sneer pasted on his ugly face, calling out clear as day that he saw Jaehyun red-faced and huffing his way through his morning paper rounds, when he accused him of his poverty, that’s when Jaehyun truly wanted to hurt someone. Pride encouraged him to take a step forward, self-preservation forced him back. He didn’t want to stoop down to the level of some hot-headed teenager with no sense of control, but he wasn’t going to back down either.

Krystal had been walking by, oblivious, when Jaehyun threw the first punch. And she continued walking in her pretty new skirt and diamond earrings; the girls ignored these fights all the time, how was one including her baby brother going to make a difference?

The memory is short. He threw the initial punch even though he was the one provoked. The bully’s father was the school’s primary sponsor, the bully got off clean as a whistle, and Jaehyun was suspended for three days. His father scolded him and his mother cried. His grandfather gave him a weak but proud smile. His grandmother snuck a brand new leather notebook under his pillow.

He dreamed of moving his family out of the house they’ve lived in for generations, to get that proud smile again. But by the time he graduated school, Krystal had disappeared with her girls to the opposite side of the world, and his grandparents had passed on a year before. His father’s body continued to deteriorate, and his mother was heartbroken that her only daughter had left behind nothing but a letter before leaving for God knows how long. 

A few years into his job at the publishing company he used to deliver papers for, he profits enough to buy a nice, one-story, white picket-fenced house on the edge of town. Not enough for his father to retire, but enough to get by a little better than before.

He’s worked his whole life to find a home for himself, and once he caught it, he didn’t get to share it with his whole family. 

The absence of his sister still gnaws at his chest sometimes, when he has absolutely nothing to think about and the fact sprouts back in his head, reminding him that things will never be the same.

He supposes he is much more similar to the circus than he originally thought.

Jaehyun is just a little bit sick of seeing purple and blue the first thing each day when he freshens himself up in the morning, but that’s payback for his unwarranted words. If he held back a little more, he wouldn’t have to deal with the occasional pulse of pain through his skull whenever he accidentally pokes the skin around it a bit too hard. Still, the color is far less vibrant than from the week before, which is just mildly reassuring.

He forms a short routine of his days now, whenever they’re not on the move. Mornings, he wakes up by sunrise, dresses, and heads off to the kitchen to help Taeyong. Afternoons, he hops around the grounds to aid whoever he can. Nights, he cleans up after dinner and heads back to continue writing in his notebook. 

They’ve performed in two other towns since Jaehyun joined, and though he doesn’t truly get to explore these new places, it still brings a tinge of excitement every time.

He’s also built up a cycle of who he eats with during meals, rotating between Taeil, Kun and Jungwoo’s group, his cabin mates, and Doyoung. The former two are understandable: they’re his friends, sort of. The latter, Jaehyun still couldn’t quite figure out how and why they haven’t killed each other with steak knives yet.

“You’re daydreaming again,” Doyoung notes, the fork in his hand waving around to get Jaehyun’s attention. He stops when Jaehyun’s eyes focus back in again on the plate of food in front of him, and Doyoung takes a bite out of his bacon. “You seem to do that a lot.”

“Pardon me, then,” Jaehyun apologizes sheepishly. “I was thinking.”

“You do that a lot too.”

“My mind tends to have a million things running through it at once that I need to process.” Jaehyun shovels the last bite of his breakfast into his mouth before leaning back against his chair. “I’m still adapting.”

Doyoung nods, and they fall into a comfortable silence. Being in each other’s company no longer has as much of a hostile edge to it, not since Doyoung decided painting Jaehyun as the public enemy wasn’t particularly effective for the circus, and not since Jaehyun chose to hold back his brash nature. 

Still, there’s an unresolved tension in the air whenever Ten is closeby. Jaehyun tries his best to turn away and not bother him, but Ten goes out of his way to scowl disapprovingly at him every time. Jaehyun has to try extra hard to contain his anger.

“You should apologize to him.”

Jaehyun doesn’t budge and ignores Doyoung’s hard gaze like a petulant child.

“You were wrong to say those things to him.”

“He shouldn’t have said what he said either.”

“_Jaehyun._” 

He’s headstrong, and he doesn’t like to apologize. But something in the sincerity behind Doyoung’s voice convinces him otherwise. 

Maybe he is wrong. Maybe Ten’s high and mighty act isn’t arrogance; it’s defense. Maybe Jaehyun really didn’t have the right to attack in the home territory of another.

“Please, just go talk to him and resolve a little something. I can’t deal with this… _standoff_ anymore. You both made mistakes. Now fix it.”

Maybe Doyoung is right. 

A pressure on his body, like he digested rocks that could only sit at the bottom of his stomach, grabs ahold of him when he finally finds Ten alone in the main tent, like the first time Jaehyun met him. He’s usually doesn’t have such cold feet when approaching strangers and stragglers.

“You here to apologize, Jung?” Ten doesn’t even look at the entrance, focused on braiding his legs through the metal hoop dangling off the scaffolding of the tent. Gravity pulls on his limbs, but he lays comfortably on the thin circle, head lolled to one side. He could probably sleep in that position if he wanted to.

The short speech Jaehyun planned a minute ago flies out of his head, and he’s left, tongue in cheek, reconsidering whether doing this was a good idea.

He realizes no, of course it isn’t, but does he really have a choice at this point?

“Jung, I don’t have all day.”

Jaehyun lets out a heavy breath. “Would you mind talking about this eye to eye at least?”

Ten leans back a bit further, upside down, and sends Jaehyun a cheeky smile. “No.”

It’s not about a possible friendship with Ten, no, it’s for Doyoung and the rest of the circus. Fuck dignity and all.

“Please, Ten?”

“Maybe if you start begging on your knees, then I’ll consider.”

Jaehyun’s sure his grinding teeth is making a loud enough sound for Ten to hear. It takes a bit too much effort to grit out, “I want to give you a genuine apology for what I said, and expect none in return. Please come down to accept it.”

Ten tuts out his lip, tapping his chin a few times. “Well, since you asked so _ nicely_…” Ten rolls his chest off the hoop so only his knees cling to the metal, and he disappears. The hoop unties from the scaffolding and drops to the ground with a clang. A puff of sand and dust explodes next to Jaehyun, framing a pair of footprints.

Ten reappears opposite of Jaehyun with his arms crossed, looking bored. “Go on, then. I’m listening.”

Oh, where does he even start?

“I apologize.” Jaehyun closes his eyes for a moment, letting some sense of tranquility wash over him. “I apologize for saying what I said about you. It was inconsiderate. Words mean little to me, and I forget all the shit that comes out of my mouth has consequences.”

Ten raises an eyebrow. “Do continue.”

“I’m not here to be a footstool for your ego, Ten.”

“And I’m not some punching bag for your overzealous words.”

Jaehyun can’t help but sigh. “I don’t see how Doyoung can possibly hope for us to get along.”

“So he’s the one who put you up to this. Didn’t coin you to be such a pushover.” Ten pauses, a playful grin working its way onto his lips. “Let’s say this. To make the old man happy, we come to a truce for now. Be civil and all. That way, he won’t sprout any more gray hairs.”

“I reckon—”

“And I sincerely do regret punching you in the eye. Didn’t have to destroy your pride and appearance at the same time.” Ten steps back, putting a hand on his heart in sarcastic sincerity, and recedes into the shadows of the tent. “I’m glad you came to find me.” 

This time, Jaehyun doesn’t wait for him to reappear, and leaves with the tension released from his chest.

Jaehyun’s hometown is nowhere near the coastline, and though an hour’s drive from the city would bring them to the nearest thing to a beach, a short strip of sand barely half a mile wide bordering shallow green-blue water, it would take a full day’s time. That’s a day of work he would skip for what he deemed as nothing but a bit of fun that could easily be replaced with activities that require far less travel. Thus, he’s never been to a real beach. 

But now that he’s here, bare feet buried in the sand, his toes tingling at the odd sensation of minuscule rocks pressing against his skin, he finds that he enjoys this. _ It’s nice_, he thinks. Calm, quiet, and a little unfamiliar.

He can almost smell the salt, and can definitely feel it stick to his skin, the moisture settling on his face in dewdrops. He would step a little closer and let the waves wash over his feet, but doesn’t really want to bother with the mess of sand and ocean water he would have to clean up later on.

Oh, how he misses home, his parents, but in a few days, when the circus packs up once again, he’ll miss this even more. 

He’s just about to close his eyes and simply listen to the crash of waves and crows of seagulls when a blur of yellow hair rushes past him, screeching with delight.

So much for the peace and quiet.

Jaehyun turns around to see Jeno dash past him down the sandy hill, yelling at Chenle to wait for him, and Jaemin trailing behind calmly, hauling a jerry can in his right hand.

“Jaehyun! Taeyong said to come get some food before it gets cold. Or completely eaten. Lucas has a big morning appetite,” Chenle calls out. He twists his body back and forth to counterbalance his heels digging into the sand, forming a shallow hole a distance away. 

It’s all rather suspicious, so Jaehyun lets them be, nodding at the three before starting back to the circus. He takes one last, quick glimpse behind him, and Jaemin is smiling evilly as he twists open the can, tossing its contents onto Jeno’s head. 

Jaehyun quickens his pace.

When he arrives back at the circus, the others are already finishing up brunch. He opts for an apple rather than a full meal, and heads for Jungwoo and Lucas in the corner, who are the only ones still eating, standing by a foldable bar table. 

“Tell me, why on earth are Jaemin and Chenle pouring gasoline all over Jeno down at the beach?” Jaehyun starts, and that sentence sounds so, so odd coming out of his mouth.

Lucas and Jungwoo share a glance, and before Jaehyun even registers, Lucas is sprinting away towards the sandy slopes leading down to the beach. 

“Well, there he goes again.” Jungwoo sighs, scraping at his empty plate with his fork. “I swear, he thinks he’s sixteen or something. Doyoung needs to stop letting him supervise the kids or they’ll set the circus on fire one day.”

With the mention of Doyoung’s name, there hangs an unspoken question between them that Jungwoo detects with ease.

“He’s in the city right now. Handling some business with Taeil, so we get the day off.” Jungwoo side-eyes the direction of gleeful yells. “That’s why everything is a mess right now...”

Renjun saunters over and perches right in between the two, bracing his arm on the table. He gives neither any regards, and just narrows his eyes at the horizon.

“Are you alright?”

Renjun scans the clearing again, fingers tapping impatiently on the table. As Jaehyun is about to wave for his attention, he lifts his hand, an index finger to silence him, and stares even more intently at whatever it is he’s waiting for.

A moment later, Lucas sprints back up the hill, red-faced, maybe ready to pass out if he has to take another step on the incline. He doubles over in a heap and collapses to the ground, clutching at his chest.

“God, you’re so dramatic,” Renjun comments, leaping over the table to make his way towards Lucas. He squats down next to him and pokes at his chest a few times. “How’re they doing?”

Lucas takes a few more large gulps of air before pasting on a dazzling smile. “Jeno’s flashing like a firework right now. Why didn’t you come with us?”

“I’d rather not get in trouble.”

“But Doyoung’s not here!”

“That’s the problem.”

“Come on, Junnie, have some fun!” Lucas whines, tugging at Renjun’s arm while still lying on the grass. If he pulled a bit harder, Renjun would have collapsed right next to him with the way his weight is perched entirely on the balls of his feet.

“I’d rather not conduct in whatever dangerous business you all are dealing with.”

Jaehyun’s attention is diverted as a spotted leopard pounces over and shifts into Chenle midair. He shakes his hair out, and stray grass blades fall out.

“We’re bored. Come play with us.” It’s more of a demand than a request, to Jaehyun’s amusement. Chenle hops up and down with anticipation.

Lucas, focused more on playing with Renjun’s fingers and drawing mindless swirls into the other’s hand asks, “What are we playing?”

“What else? Simon says.”

Lucas’s hand stills. A wide, sly grin spreads over his face, consuming and hungry. He slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position and faces Chenle.

“Simon says, you say? Well then, you should have just started with that. You know how much I _ love _ that game,” Lucas practically purrs.

It might just be his imagination, but Jaehyun swears he hears Renjun mumble, “Someone’s going to break a bone again...”

Jaehyun has a bad feeling about this.

“I know that smile, and I’m glad you like the spirit of the game. But if you cheat one more time, Doyoung will have to ban you from hanging out with us,” Chenle warns, but his words fall without meaning. In a flash, he transforms into a hummingbird and zips away.

Lucas stands up and grabs Renjun by the hand, pulling him along down the hill after the bird.

Jungwoo sighs from behind Jaehyun.

“I trust Renjun, but I’m not sure what he can do at this point. Can you go watch the kids? I’m afraid things are going to get out of hand again,” Jungwoo asks.

_ I’m not sure I can do anything either_, Jaehyun thinks, but he nods anyways and begins his descent back to the beach, towards what he prays isn’t chaos.

When he reaches the bottom of the hill, he’s surprised to only find Renjun and Lucas waiting there.

“Where’re the others?” Jaehyun asks Renjun.

“Up a tree. Somewhere.”

Jaehyun gives him a look, but Renjun provides no further explanation.

“Hey, Chenle! No cheating!” Lucas suddenly yells.

Jaehyun follows his Lucas’ accusing finger to a tree a few yards away and is alarmed to see Jaemin, Jeno, and Jisung rapidly climbing up its trunk. The tree itself looks far too thin to hold the weight of three growing boys.

A squirrel perched on one of the highest branches suddenly turns into the offending blond boy, who shouts back, “There are no rules in this game, dummy!”

“Simon never said you could shapeshift! I said to climb that tree!”

Chenle sticks his tongue out at Lucas before turning back into a squirrel. 

Jaehyun looks back at Renjun for a moment, and a realization hits him.

“Renjun, why are you still here and not…” Jaehyun hates how strange everything coming out of his mouth today must sound, “...climbing a tree?”

“Because Lucas never said ‘Simon says go climb that tree.’ He just said ‘Go climb that tree.'”

“Doesn’t that mean they all lost the game then?” Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows.

To his left, Lucas laughs loudly, bending over and wiping tears out of his eyes**. **Renjun glances at him with distaste.

“Yes, and that means I’ve won, just like every other time we’ve played this game. It’s honestly getting quite boring.” Renjun scowls at Jaemin and Jeno, who are trying to shove each other off, and Jisung, who is trying in vain to grab Chenle’s tail.

Lucas throws his arms around Renjun’s shoulders, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. Renjun rocks side to side with the motion, and Jaehyun can’t tell if there’s murder behind his eyes or not. “Aw, Renjun, you should be happy you won. That means you don’t have to do the punishment later” 

“Having to deal with _ you _is punishment enough.”

“Hey! You should love me. I _ let _ you win.”

“No, I only win because I’m deaf and don’t have to listen to your annoying charmspeak. And _ you _just like making everyone suffer.”

“Well, like Chenle said, there are no rules in this game.” Lucas puts on a cheeky grin, very different from the one he had when commanding the other boys to make a fool of themselves by seeping magic into each syllable.

“Charmspeaking them into doing things when you don’t say ‘Simon says’ defeats the whole purpose, Lucas.”

“But if I make them go away then I get to spend more time with you.” Lucas pouts, as if pulling that face would work against Renjun. 

Renjun purses his lips and is silent for a moment. If it isn’t Jaehyun’s imagination or just the cold bite of the wind, Renjun’s cheeks redden ever so slightly. "You already spend enough time bothering me. Now tell the others to get down. I’m afraid Jisung’s going to fall and break his neck again with how clumsy he is,” Renjun mutters into Lucas’s arms.

“Fine,” Lucas complies. “Boys!” It’s almost comical, the way all their heads snap towards Lucas at the sound of his charmspeaking voice, waiting for their next command. “Climb down and go back to the tent. We’ll deal with your punishment later.”

After making sure all of the boys are safely on the ground, Jaehyun departs as well, leaving Lucas and Renjun to walk back to their friends, hand in hand. 

He should be paid for all this babysitting.

Jaehyun barely notices Ten sprinting across the field with a hand practically glued to his shoulder, and he’s almost afraid that the man has somehow, inevitably, broken a bone doing all those stupid reckless tricks. But at the turn that led to Jaemin’s tent, he takes the opposite, towards the train cars. Ten appears and reappears, like a flickering lightbulb, until he gets to the fourth cart, the most well-decorated one on the exterior. Kun’s costume shop.

There’s a hint of panic still in Ten’s eyes when he slips into the cart. A few moments later, Ten hops out with a worried smile, lagging close behind to a red-faced Kun. The two speed back across the field. Jaehyun watches, amused, like it’s a game of tennis. It might as well be, considering the number of times the two have walked back and forth across their court.

“I swear, I just wanted to practice in it! Get a feel for the material, you see,” Ten rambles, scrambling to keep up with Kun’s quick, purposeful steps. “The sparkles can be distracting sometimes, you know that.”

“Ten, you lost your lucky charm because I hadn’t finished securing the goddamn thing to the costume yet. It’s completely your own fault.” Kun suddenly stops, then kneels to brush his fingers over the blades of grass. “Where is that damn thing?”

“That’s why I asked for your help!” Ten tries to keep a cheerful tone, but the death glare Kun sends back makes him falter. “You know… magical intuition… finding things… That’s your specialty!” Ten’s short laughs afterward are forced.

“Wait— Shh.” Kun presses the heel of his palm into the dirt. “I think I’ve located it.”

“Oh, thank the lords, I don’t know what I would do without you.” Ten trails behind Kun again, and they cross the field one last time. Near the opening of the main tent, Kun reaches into the folds of the tent fabric, finally producing a golden brooch.

Ten, ecstatic, throws his arms around Kun and jumps onto his back, grabbing for the brooch. He leans over and slaps a wet smooch on the side of Kun’s face. “Thank you again!”

“I need to sew—”

Ten disappears with a wink and a wave, leaving Kun to let out another sigh of frustration. 

The poor tailor is just about to head back to his cove when Doyoung arrives, scowling at the scene. There are boys running everywhere, Jeno with a knife down his throat, Renjun sitting helplessly on Lucas’s shoulders, and Kun out in broad daylight for the first time in days. Carolina and the other tigers are roaming the circus like they own the place, and Mark is nowhere to be found to keep them from killing the rest of the circus members.

When Doyoung catches Jaehyun’s gaze, Jaehyun holds up his arms in surrender. “I swear I didn’t do anything.”

“You see, that may be the problem. I’m not going to question this.” Doyoung walks right past Chenle in bear cub form, sitting on Jisung, who’s sprawled helplessly on the ground, and heads for his office instead. “Jaehyun, come with me.”

Jaehyun takes one more look at the chaos around him, and decides that it could only get better even if he leaves them unsupervised.

Jaehyun busies himself with observing the map on Doyoung’s desk as the other empties his full bag into a drawer placed in the corner of the room. The map of the country is covered in red circles, all connected by a single, zig-zagging line. It almost looks like a constellation. He follows the line and ends up at the town they’re currently in, though there’s no red ink surrounding it yet.

“What do the circles mean?”

“It means,” Doyoung shuts the drawer with a soft click and walks over to Jaehyun. He hovers on the opposite side of the table and braces his arms against it, leaning forward. “That we’ve been there and we’re never going back again. One show per city, no more, no less. That’s the rule.”

Jaehyun looks at the map again and traces the line with a finger back to his own town. 

It’s circled in red, as expected.

“It’s too risky for us to go back. We’ve always kept a few steps ahead of the hunters. Can’t close that distance now.”

Jaehyun sucks in a sharp breath, unsure how to feel about this newfound information, but doesn’t dawdle on it. He can worry about home later, not when he still has so much more to _ explore._

He doesn’t notice Doyoung gently placing his bag onto the map table. “Anyways, I have something for you.”

Doyoung opens the flap of his satchel and reaches inside, pulling a leather strap to reveal—

“My camera.” Jaehyun observes blatantly, but he’s too surprised to sound eloquent. “You fixed it.”

Doyoung lets the leather strap fall into Jaehyun’s hands as he explains, “Well, I know a man. His magic deals with repairing physical objects and such. I figured since he was around here these couple of days too, then it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to pay him a visit while I was in town.”

“I—” Jaehyun is at a loss for words. “Thank you. I can’t possibly think of a way to repay you.”

Doyoung hums. “I have something else as well.” This time, he takes out a white envelope and hands it to Jaehyun. “You left a roll of film in your camera so I went ahead and had it developed.”

Jaehyun opens the envelope and takes out a stack of printed photos. The very first one is mostly black, save for a single spot of light illuminating a figure robed in a brilliant red.

“I’ve never had my picture taken before,” Doyoung says quietly.

_ What a shame_, Jaehyun thinks. A figure as bold as Doyoung, who calls for attention and takes up the entire room with their presence deserves to have their picture taken. They _ demand _ to have their picture taken.

Carding through the rest of the photos, Jaehyun sees Yuta and his horses, his white jacket and the coat of the white mare he’s stood upon contrasting against the brown of the dirt beneath them, Ten blindfolded, bow and arrow above his head, Jisung, flower petals raining down upon him, and Chenle, deep in a bow with that boyish grin on his face. He didn’t think these would turn out as beautiful as they are now, in his hands.

“You can repay me by taking more pictures during tomorrow’s show.”

Jaehyun looks up at Doyoung in surprise.

“Really? You aren’t afraid they’ll land in the wrong hands?”

Doyoung doesn’t meet Jaehyun’s eyes, instead focusing on the photo at the top of the stack, the picture of him in his red tailcoat. He wets his lips and releases a breath of resignation.

“I’m not worried about you spreading the pictures. There’s no one for you to give it to anyways while you’re here with us. Besides, the kids will love it. I never let them get even remotely near a camera.”

“I’m sure they will. Thank you.” Jaehyun, being the approval-seeking reporter he was trained to be, continues, “And what about you? What do you think?”

Doyoung opens his mouth as if to say something, but then decides against it and stays silent. He reaches for the picture from the top of the stack in Jaehyun’s hands and stares at it for a minute. “This… Can I keep it?” He asks almost reluctantly, as if he’s afraid of the simple request.

It’s not quite an answer, but Jaehyun knows what he means.

“Of course. It’s only right for you to keep your first picture.” Jaehyun smiles softly.

Doyoung clears his throat and takes the picture, tucking it into his pocket. “Thank you. That’s all. You should probably go see if Taeyong needs help setting up for dinner,” Doyoung says, a clear dismissal. He quickly spins around to the empty table behind him, where he does his paperwork, Jaehyun guesses. 

He flips through his pictures a few more times as he heads out of the cart, his well-loved camera back in his hands, and thinks maybe missing home isn’t too bad of an exchange for his new life.

They have one last free night before they move, and Jaehyun almost wants to leave everything behind again to start anew in this little town by the sea. Buy a small cottage at the edge of the beach cliffs with a nature-eroded path leading directly to the little creek flowing into the ocean. Spend his days on the balcony, a hand glued to a pen, the notebook spilling over with words and ideas that never end. He can imagine it all.

He can say he wants it, but of course, it’s a stretch, and maybe in ten years, he’ll find his way back to this same location. In the meantime, it’s a dream meant for a far, far away future. 

The moon is a yellow crescent, drawing the sea away at low tide, and Jaehyun can step deeper into the beach and pick at the stray shells scattering the grounds. The sky casts silver and gold onto the multi-colored pieces, and it all looks like glass, shattered glass. He sits down and lays his bare feet in front of him, curling his toes, watching the smooth surface of the sand break from the movement. 

“You’re awake quite late.”

There’s an automatic response that rolls off Jaehyun’s tongue. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He doesn’t realize how familiar this all feels until that familiarity breaks. The way Jaehyun’s seated towards the horizon, the voice coming from behind him, his own response, each action parallels the first time they properly conversed.

But Doyoung pads his way over and sits next to Jaehyun, not too close, and he wraps his arms around his knees, hugging himself. He’s barefoot as well, and for some reason, the idea of the two of them, sitting side by side with their toes in the sand, makes him feel so young. Jaehyun’s gaze lingers a bit too long on Doyoung’s black-turned-blue hair and the curve of the silhouette of his lips. 

It must be reaching midnight soon. Jaehyun bites the inside of his cheek. “There’s a show tomorrow night.”

“I know.” 

“There’s a lot of setting up left to be done.”

“We’ll finish in time. We always do.” Doyoung pulls the heavy coat around his shoulders tighter into his body when an ocean breeze hurries by, brushing his hair aside. “No need to worry so much.”

It feels like their conversations never last long, Jaehyun and Doyoung. There are a million unspoken words that can take up the moment, but only silence ensues, and Jaehyun is fine with that. The world is comfortable like this.

A wave rushes up the beach and washes over their feet, freezing cold to the touch. It’s still a strange sensation Jaehyun will never get used to. 

“Do you miss your home, Jaehyun?”

“Of course I do—” Jaehyun starts, but he figures it’s a lie. He can’t miss home if he was so eager to leave in the first place. “It’s complicated.”

“Home is a hard word to define, I suppose.” Jaehyun thinks he likes it when Doyoung holds the world in a tender stare, as if it cared for him and nurtured him, when all it really did was kill his aged soul. “I’m sure you’ve loved home before.”

“Maybe.” He hovers for a moment, and there’s a wave of nostalgia and ocean washing by him again. He stands quickly to avoid the tide rising and wetting his clothes. “Home brings about bad memories. I have nothing there left for me.”

Doyoung doesn’t blink when the water nearly misses the hem of his jacket, and Jaehyun offers him a hand. He’s still off in his own world when Jaehyun pulls him off the ground. 

“You wanted an adventure, and you have one now.” Doyoung draws his gaze away from the moon to face Jaehyun, and there’s nothing but warmth and optimism. “I hope we have what you’ve been looking for.”

He wants to smile to himself, but another crisp autumn wind flies by, leaving Jaehyun in a teeth-chattering shiver. With the cool nature of the oceanside, the temperatures reach far below what he’s used to inland.

Before he can even wrap his arms around his chest to conserve some body heat, Doyoung is handing him the black trench coat he had on. Jaehyun almost doesn’t take it, considering Doyoung himself is only wearing a vest over his dress shirt, but another minute in the cold might as well deem him indispensable if he catches a cold.

He slips his arms into the warmth of the sleeves and tries not to cling onto the fabric for too long.

Doyoung starts to walk along the edge of the water, hands tucked neatly into his trouser pockets. His heel drags as he walks, leaving an indent in the sand to mark their trail. 

There’s an apology waiting on the tip of Jaehyun’s tongue, he’s not quite sure for what, but it’s there, ready, just in case, but when Doyoung beats him to it, he nearly stumbles.

“I’m sorry we got off to the wrong foot at first. It’s difficult to trust people nowadays. I’ve had a fair share of reporters hunting me down for a chance at literary fame.” Doyoung purses his lips. “Paranoia.”

“You’re protective. I understand that. And I apologize for being an ass about it.” Jaehyun chuckles to himself. “There’s nothing as unpleasant as sudden changes.”

At one point, Doyoung turns the two of them around to head back towards the direction of camp, and they talk, on and on. Doyoung doesn’t spill much about his past before the circus, but he tells the story of each of the members, short, fond memories making him grin as he recalls each of them. And Jaehyun replies with stories of his own, of working his way out of poverty to provide for his family, of the dream he’s just about to catch up to. 

The moon had long passed its peak and began its slow descent again, marking the hours of early morning, when Jaehyun and Doyoung finally walk back up to camp. 

“We’ll be leaving again tomorrow night. Going back inland, so make do of the hours we have left here. I can tell you like the ocean.” Doyoung carries a hint of a grin on his lips. “It won’t be long until we’re back, though.”

“I’ll hold you on that.” 

They fall into silence once again, and all Jaehyun wants to do is admire the glimmer of silver casting across Doyoung’s face like ripples of water. He then realizes the coat still on him, and grabs one of the cuffs to take it off.

Doyoung clasps his palms around one of Jaehyun’s hands, a look of concern flashing across his face. “You’re still freezing.”

Jaehyun hums a short, _ oh_, when Doyoung’s fingers press along the pulse of Jaehyun’s hand, under the jacket sleeve. He rubs smooth circles into Jaehyun’s palm, and then brings it up to his lips, blowing warm breaths on Jaehyun’s frozen fingers. 

“Keep it with you. It’s reaching winter.” And with that, he retracts his arms, and they fall to his side. “Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s unsure why he hesitates, but Doyoung has already taken a few quick steps backward in the direction of his own room before Jaehyun returns to his senses and replies a short, “Goodnight.”

At night, Jaehyun doesn’t dream of home for the first time since he left. Instead, his mind is empty and dark except for the prominent feeling of gentle fingertips drawing along his skin like quill against parchment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
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[curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)  
[character profiles (the ringmaster carrd)](https://theringmaster.carrd.co/)  
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	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Jaehyun, what _are_ you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one, but an important one
> 
> working title: it's not Confused Jaehyun™ for once!! but he's still confused rip

They debut the new setup tonight. The stands fill with the crowds, bustling as they take their seats, anticipating a show of the century. They’ve been preparing for this show for ages, the tricks are harder than before, the magic is flowing and prickling in the air, and there are a million and one things that can go wrong. But they know if they finish this show without a single complication, the rest of this leg of the tour will finish smoothly. Nerves are on a high wire, and backstage is frantic. 

Jaehyun tries his best to stay out of the way as the performers scurry back and forth to make sure the props are all in place, and that they’re fully stretched out to prevent injuries. Kun stands in the middle, grabbing onto someone every so often to stop their scrambling, fix a misfolded collar, repin hairpieces, and dust off stray eye powders. Everything must be perfect.

Ten pulls himself up from a handstand and Kun dodges around Jeno’s prop cart to re-curl the misplaced hair on his forehead, then pats down his costume to check for rhinestones that may unstick from the fabric. They all know nothing will fall off; Kun’s sewing is impeccable.

The minutes count down to seconds. As they reach autumn solstice, the sun draws nearer to the horizon earlier, and with the tent flaps ready to fall close to begin the show, there’s only a hint of oranges and purples reaching the sandpit. When the hooks release to lower the flaps, the audience falls into silence.

Kun licks his thumb to wipe away a hint of black kohl that had somehow imprinted onto Jisung’s cheek.

Taeil hovers by the edge of the stage entrance, scanning the crowd, a clipboard in hand. He crosses something off, and looks for the familiar faces above in the scaffolding.

Kun grabs Doyoung by the shoulders, dusting off his red tailcoat and fixing the tophat to fall at the perfect angle. He spins Doyoung around one last time to check for the minuscule details that only he can find. 

Taeil glances at his paper again, and motions for Doyoung to go, sending a thumbs up to Renjun and Jungwoo, up in the rafters. Jungwoo has tiny sparks flying around him, and Renjun’s hands press tightly to the speakers.

And Jaehyun leans back, away from the busiest parts, a sort of excitement ready to jolt through his system. Before Doyoung runs out to the center of the stage, he tips his hat ever-so-slightly at Jaehyun, and it makes Jaehyun quirk his lips into a smile.

It’s showtime.

The performance is magical in the sense that each act is alight with energy, both from the natural magic that courses through each trick, and with the mere passion they have for their job. There’s love and sweat poured into every day of practice that is so prominently displayed in the show.

The first time Jaehyun had watched it, his brain had run off on a tangent of possible interview questions and tentative headlines, and by intermission, the blur of colors and sounds around him became static background to the cogs churning in his head. 

Now, he has the front row seat, technically, peeking out from behind the curtain, following Taeil’s example of hiding in the shadows of the folds to keep from being seen. Every so often, he notices Jungwoo sparkling, conducting the energy particles when he needs to, reserving them when it’s dark. Renjun has his hands gripped tightly to the bars of the scaffolding, feeling for the music pulses. 

As Ten wraps his leg around the strip of pink silk, tying himself up, Kun bites furiously at his nails, eyes straying from the cloth, because one snag of the silk on a simple half-sewn crystal could ruin the entire routine. 

When Ten lets go, he spins and falls, drifting like a shooting star to the ground, and lands flawlessly. The spotlight moves to reveal Haechan, sitting amidst the crowd, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes when he sings the final line. The man next to him is in awe, confused as to how the voice sounds so much like his own.

Jaehyun wasn’t usually one for theatricals, but he’s entranced after every show, and it always feels like the first. 

He does as Doyoung had instructed him to, his newly-repaired camera always by his side, ready for him to reach for when he spots a photo-opportunity. There’s a new tingle of purpose in his body, with his current task being one that he’s always loved. It feels like he’s somehow integrated himself into a magical circus. And dare he say it, he’s found a place to cherish the people and the lifestyle.

Right as Mark is about to step on stage, he lines himself at the exit, coiling his whip and strapping it to his side. He tugs at his jacket cuffs and lets out a heavy breath. The tigers are lined up at the opposite stage entrance, ready to follow his lead. 

Jaehyun tucks himself further away to make space for him. But, he can still see the way Mark’s nerves drain out of his body when Haechan approaches him from behind, grabbing for his hand. Haechan laces their fingers together, and brings their hands to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“You’ll do wonderfully, love,” Haechan mumbles, holding on a bit tighter. The lights flash back on, and Carolina, leading the pack, pounces out into the ring and onto her platform, followed by the four other tigers. Haechan lets go and takes a step back, and Mark pastes on a genuine smile as he jogs into the center of the ring.

Inconspicuously, Jaehyun catches a picture of that.

By the end of the first half of the show, the performers had all done a decent share of work, coming backstage breathing heavily, headed for the dressing rooms to prep for the second half. Doyoung sprints back as well once he finished his short intermission speech, his black bangs plastered to his forehead underneath the top hat, the tip of his nose shimmering with sweat. With the way he runs around back and forth between acts to keep things in check, it’s no surprise he’s exhausted already.

Jaehyun takes those precious few minutes of free time to follow the flow of the crowd outside to where the minigames and stands are set up around the main tent for guests to enjoy. Children beckon for their parents to help them explore the myriad of candies being made right in front of their eyes. Teenagers pull their friends towards a booth lined with stuffed animals. With all the pushing and shoving, he somehow finds himself caught in a line for a familiar, dark blue tent.

It’s a twin tent of Jaemin’s, but in a midnight blue shade speckled with purple hues, like that of a galaxy. There are blue lights hanging along the roof of it as well, and when it’s Jaehyun’s turn to go in, the inside is submerged in complete darkness, lit by a single, white, glowing orb in the center. A thin face emerges from the darkness, head covered in a hood to hide its eyes. The shine of the crystal ball only provides enough light to outline the curve of Sicheng’s lips and nose.

“Fancy seeing you here today, Jung Jaehyun.” His mouth curls into a cattish smile. “Didn’t think you would end up coming around today. I usually only deal with teenagers gullible enough to spend money here.”

Jaehyun slides into the seat across from Sicheng, blinking at the crystal ball. “Glad to see you too. So, how does this whole fortune-telling thing work?”

“You just sit tight, and I’ll do the reading.” Sicheng grapples for Jaehyun’s hand, placing them face down against his table. He carefully lays his own hands on top, barely touching his skin, and hums, closing his eyes. “You close your eyes too. Helps with the process.”

Jaehyun does as instructed, and for some reason, he expects a surge of energy flowing through him, maybe some sort of invisible hand flicking through his thoughts and pinching onto the ones it wants. He also prepares himself for something milder, a thin branch prodding at his brain, maybe. 

He isn’t quite prepared to feel absolutely nothing. 

He debates whether to open his eyes or not. Maybe Sicheng was poking fun at him, for being so trusting. Another minute passes, and fuck it, he peels his eyes open.

Sicheng’s eyebrows are furrowed, knotting tight on his forehead, and his hands, still on Jaehyun’s, strain, enough to see the bare outlines of his veins. A frown is set deep on his face.

He lifts his hands, and takes a breath. “Hold on, I can try again.”

Sicheng readjusts his grip on Jaehyun’s hands once, twice more. Nothing.

Finally, he retracts his hands and sighs. “Oh, Jaehyun, what _ are _ you?”

“What do you mean? I’m human, last time I checked.” He lets out a tense laugh. 

“Not completely, it seems.” Sicheng presses his lips into a tight line, eyes wandering, unfocused, as he tries to process it all. “I can’t read you. I can’t see your future.”

Jaehyun’s mouth goes dry. “No, that’s impossible. You should be able to—”

“I tried, and I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t even get an hour into your future. It’s completely blank.” Sicheng struggles to find the right words. “I couldn’t get past anything.”

“I don’t understand—”

“I don’t either.” Sicheng laces his fingers together, his knuckles going white. “My magic doesn’t work on you.”

The flap of the tent flies open, and a surge of light makes Jaehyun hold his arm up to block his eyes. Sicheng recedes into his hood.

Jaemin peeks his head in. “There are still three people in line, could you hurry up? Show’s starting in five.”

As Jaehyun’s about to leave, a teenage girl scrambles in, hands shaking in excitement. 

She’ll get the fortune she wants to hear, about meeting the love of her life and being able to follow whatever implausible dream she has. 

Jaehyun doesn’t have that luxury, it seems.

Something in the pit of his stomach turns and lurches as he heads out of the tent. He’s traveling with a magic circus, having lived his entire life in the most mundane way possible, and suddenly magic doesn’t work on him? It’s all a little too much. He’s so far lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the innocent person that fell along his path until they run straight into him.

“Oh, pardon me.”

Jaehyun turns on impact. He finds a tall man, lean but broad-shouldered, hand buried deep in the pockets of his black coat. Besides the freshly-healed gash along his cheekbone, he’s clearly well-dressed, dissimilar to the ragged inhabitants roaming the fairgrounds. An austere aura that doesn’t quite fit in. He must be from the city.

Jaehyun grabs for his camera protectively, shielding it against the sudden force that had just run into him.

“Excuse me, I wasn’t paying attention.”

He has on an easy smile, far too nice for someone who had run into Jaehyun practically head-on.

Jaehyun’s hand tightens around his camera lens.

“Say, did you just come from that tent, by any chance?” The man points at the midnight blue tent Jaehyun had left not too long ago. He would have found it a little disconcerting if his head isn’t still trying to wrap around Sicheng’s ominous answers.

“I did.”

“How good is the fortune teller?”

Jaehyun’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. He doesn’t doubt Sicheng’s ability, but he’s doubting himself and who he is, _ what _ he is. 

A moment passes before he responds, “He’s good. One of the best, I would say.” Perhaps advertising for Sicheng would be nice. After all, Sicheng did say he specializes in fortunes above truthful futures. “But the show’s starting soon. You’ll miss it if you get your fortune read now.”

“Ah, thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine” The corner of the man’s lips curl naturally into a small smile when he presses them into a thin line. “I’ve already seen my favorite act. The singer is quite something, isn’t he?”

Jaehyun nods mutely, attention waning as Jaemin taps the back of his wrist twice and points to the main tent. Jaehyun takes a few steps backwards in that direction to indicate his need to leave.

But the man continues, “Besides, I’ve already seen this show before, so I won’t be too devastated if I miss a part.” 

“Oh, well—” Jaehyun suddenly notices the lack of crowds around him, all rushing back to the tent to settle for the second act. Jaemin had also disappeared. “I must be getting back to the show now. I hope you find your fortune to your satisfaction,” he responds, distracted.

In his rush to leave, Jaehyun doesn’t hear the man mutter to himself, “I’ve already found my fortune today to be very satisfactory.”

As the show draws to a close, the cast bursts onto the stage for the final number. Jisung takes center stage, and the rest of the performers run in from all different places, backstage, the sidelines, down the scaffolding, even from the audience. The applause is absolutely deafening. 

Beside him, Kun lets out the breath he’s held since the beginning of the show.

A look of utter satisfaction blooms on Doyoung’s face as he takes his top hat off to wipe at the sweat that has collected along his hairline. His breathing is heavy, not labored, and he gently congratulates the cast as they enter backstage as well.

Kun proceeds to grab Doyoung’s wrist, berating him for using the expensive velvet as a sweat towel. 

Jaehyun retreats to his corner, staying out of the way as the youngest boys slide into their corners, laughing, peeling their costumes off their bodies. Jeno promptly collapses onto his chair in a heap as Jaemin reaches over to cool him with a paper fan.

Renjun, Taeil, and Jungwoo are still monitoring the floor, guiding the guests out of the tent. Mark and Yuta also haven’t returned, herding their animals back into their pens at the end of the train. Still, backstage bustles, and maybe someone would mistake the lights bordering the dressing room mirrors as sparks of magic, because magic as an essence _ exists_, but the magic of a family born for the stage glows far brighter.

Haechan shakes his vest off his arms, careful not to press too hard on the new embellishments Kun had arduously sewed on by hand. He folds it so that the gold beading would be displayed on top.

It isn’t until he’s reaching to unclasp his necklace that he realizes something’s missing when his bare hands brush the back of his neck. He panics for a second, glancing around him to find nothing. He even digs through the blank space of his dresser, but then sighs a breath of relief as he remembers something. He had taken it off and stuffed it in his pocket while performing. It must have fallen out as he moved around.

He quickly changes back into his normal slacks and shirt and folds the rest of his costume together, piling the pieces under the vest in a neat stack.

With the costume in hand, he makes his way around the divider to Jisung’s section of the dressing room. He pulls a sweet pout and asks, “Can you bring these to Kun’s shop for me? I left something in the tent.” The other nods without sparing an extra glance and takes the stack from Haechan’s hands. Jisung returns to wiping at his face to get rid of the last remnants of his makeup.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

When he arrives at the tent, it’s quiet, eerily so. Usually at least Jungwoo would still be here taking things down, but it seems the technician finished packing much faster today, because all he’s met with is silence.

He walks over next to the stands where he was standing at the end of the show and searches, but all he finds are stray pieces of flattened popcorn and pretzels.

Haechan bites at the inside of his cheek, poking the tip of his shoe at an empty cup, and finds nothing. “That’s strange, I swear I left it here.”

Something rustles behind him. Haechan jerks around, but no one’s there.

“Jungwoo? Is that you?”

No response.

“Mark?”

The air suddenly feels colder, and Haechan can’t help but shudder.

It’s that feeling again, the feeling he couldn’t shake off all throughout the show. The feeling of someone watching him, analyzing him.

He scans the vast expanse of the tent, looks up in the rafters and throughout the stands, until something catches his eye.

He hops over the stands, landing in the sand with a thump. He walks to the center of the ring, and there, on top of the platform Doyoung stands on as he introduces and ends the show, sits what he’s been looking for. A single black leather glove. The final and most important piece of his costume. The one thing he can’t lose.

“How did this get here?” He frowns, uneasy, and picks it up.

As soon as he puts the glove on its rightful place on his right hand, the wind is knocked out of his lungs and his throat closes up. He opens his mouth, but only silent screams come out. Resisting the urge to claw at his throat, he turns around, eyes frantically searching for the source of his torture.

Then, just as suddenly as the feeling had come, it disappears. Haechan doubles over and clutches at his chest with his left hand as he inhales deep breaths of air.

The tent flap to the backstage entrance rustles. Haechan stills. He sucks in another breath and holds it, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

A shadow of a figure creeps onto the floor of the main ring before Haechan’s eyes, the dark shape growing in size as it comes closer. Then, it stops.

Haechan slowly raises his head. The first thing he sees is a pair of black boots, tightly laced all the way up, ending at the figure’s mid-calf. Then, black pants, and the bottom of a thick, black trench coat whose pockets conceal the figure’s hands. As he scans upwards, he notes that the figure is tall and broad-shouldered. Finally, he uncurls his back, stands straight, and dares to look all the way up.

There, just a few yards away from him, is a face he’s seen a thousand times, a face that haunts his dreams and consumes his thoughts, a face he thought had been _ dead _ for years. Whereas in his dreams, the face is smiling warmly, this face is adorned with a smirk that is mischievous, proud, and _ predatory_. He follows the curve of the lips to a single scar on the left cheekbone. That isn’t in his dreams either.

A million thoughts are running through Haechan’s head. A mix of emotions– loss, confusion, betrayal, _ fear_– hits him all at once.

The man across from him grins wider. He removes his hands from his pockets. He raises his left hand in greeting. Haechan feels like he can’t breathe again, though this time from a loss of words.

The man’s left hand is covered by a single, black leather glove, identical to the one on Haechan’s right.

Haechan stares at the man’s hand, transfixed, until the sound of the other’s voice snaps his gaze back to the familiar, unfamiliar face.

“Hello, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find us on  
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	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don’t forget the person who made a heaven out of a living hell, even if it was just for a moment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title: Jaehyun gets the worst job ever ft. underage drinking

The carousel sits on the far end of the fairgrounds, well enough away from the rest of the stands to not overcrowd, but still visible from the exit of the main tent, its golden crown peeking just slightly over the reds and whites of the canopies. It holds an air of regality over its background sunset, chin up, cold eyes, filled with indifference and power. And as the shows progresses into the winter, the world gets darker earlier, and soon enough, the carousel lights up, a beacon in the night. 

It’s relatively hidden, so not as many children discover it, preferring the stuffed animals hanging off the counter at the game stands instead, something easy for their grabby fingers and short attention span. Those who do, however, dodge through the crowds, between tents, to get to the castle on the clouds.

The cast takes turns running the attraction, depending on the weather, the audience, and occasionally, they leave it off. Everyone has a job, and adding another will upset the balance. 

So sometimes, the golden structure is left forgotten in the back of the grounds, and as the night comes, the gold shifts to bronze, until it succumbs to darkness. 

Quite a waste of a good carousel.

Moving away from the coast had ruined Jaehyun’s mood for a few hours, for the moment the train began to chug, he missed the sand and the humidity and the salt. They’ll reach other beach towns eventually, as Doyoung had promised, but traveling so often still doesn’t settle too well with Jaehyun.

That, and Doyoung didn’t have the time or ability to develop his new photographs in town yet, which meant he really had nothing much to occupy his time. He’s gotten to the point that playing tic-tac-toe on Jisung’s forearm with Chenle is the most entertaining pastime of his days. 

And he tries not to think. Dwelling too much makes his head hurt. What he knows, what he’s learned, it’s all something for him to deal with another day.

He completes the small errands and tasks to fill his time for a moment. He shows the pictures he’s taken to the rest of the members, who are absolutely ecstatic to see themselves captured on camera for the first time. Haechan even begs Jaehyun to keep the one of him and Mark, _ for sentimental reasons_, he argues, and Jaehyun can’t help but comply.

And he writes. There’s not much else he can busy himself with anymore without feeling exhausted by the pure repetitive nature he’s fallen into.

They arrive in the next town, with the location they settle in a flat acre of dry, yellow grass rising up to knee height in some untamed areas. It must be some abandoned farmland in the corner of the grid of properties positioned along the river to quicken transport to the city up north. They’ve taken the empty square of land to themselves, far, far away from that river, enough that all they see when looking towards the horizon are the tips of grass blades.

The kids, for the first time, have nothing to do. Instead, as set up comes to a close, they all huddle together in a spot where grass meets dirt trail, lounging across the ground without care that stray blades will get all in their hair. Kun might throw a fit later.

But while Jaehyun's stacking some of the last empty boxes back in the train car for storage later, he catches the eye of Doyoung, who nods his head towards some nowhere direction, signaling for Jaehyun to follow. 

Doyoung slows his stroll to meet Jaehyun partway as they navigate through the maze of half-assembled tents. 

They finally stop when they reach a golden structure, and with the harsh, midday light beating heavily on it, Jaehyun can see the rust and scratches scattered across the base and up the bars holding the carousel up. But he can tell by the intricate carvings of metal chipping away that it was beautiful, once upon a time. Perhaps someone will be able to return it to its former glory, one day.

"We haven't been able to get this old machine working because of the smaller audiences. The cast was booked the last few shows." Doyoung takes the steps up onto the platform, and walks, toe to heel, the sole of his foot half off the edge along the circumference until he reaches the control panel on the far right. He hops over the railing to get into the fenced booth. Jaehyun stays on the ground, but follows. "We need an operator."

Doyoung procures a bronze key from his trouser pocket, inserting it into the control panel. He then unlocks the gate from the inside to let Jaehyun up, offering a hand. Jaehyun takes it, pulling himself onto the platform. 

When Doyoung inserts the key into its slot and twists, the entire carousel lights up, the bulbs lining the roof blinking to life. A short flick of the lever up, and the carved horses begin their rise and fall. 

They stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the machine crank the horses in forward motion gallops, and the empty seats make Jaehyun a little disheartened. 

“It’s quite simple. Check for tickets, and let the children on. Let them play for a few minutes depending on the crowd.” Doyoung pulls the lever down, and the spinning platform slows to a stop. He steps away from the control board and onto the carousel itself. He runs a hand over the back of a dark stallion with a red-and-gold-painted saddle, its details chipping away to reveal the tan of the original material. “If you’re alright with it, the job is yours.”

“You’re sure you trust me?”

“I trust you, Jaehyun.” Doyoung gives him a close-lipped smile, but it’s enough. 

A clatter of voices join the occasional creak of rusted metal, and Jaehyun knows by default who’s rushing over. 

The seven of them jump onto the carousel platform without even bothering to find the stairs, the metal plate shaking under them as they hop around the circle, looking for a horse that accommodates their preferences. 

“Are you running it now?” Chenle calls out, ankles clicking against the body of his spotted horse impatiently. “That’ll be good. I haven’t played on this in _ ages!” _

“I suppose,” Jaehyun trails off and glances at Doyoung, who gives him a small nod. Then, pushing the lever up to start the carousel, says more firmly, “Yes.”

Jaemin pipes up as he comes around the bend, “_Thank god. _ I was slowly going insane having to manage this old thing during shows. All those tiny kids and their grabby hands.” He shudders.

“You’re just lazy,” Jeno comments from the horse next to him.

Jaemin lets out a noise of indignance. “You dare insult me, sir?”

“Aye, would you like to joust?”

Jaehyun watches with amusement as the two boys stab at each other with imaginary lances, Jeno dramatically clutching at his side and falling backwards off his horse just before he turns the corner out of Jaehyun’s sight.

Just behind them, Renjun is trying to balance on the horse’s saddle, teetering on his feet as the structure moves up and down. He leans forward onto the tip of his toes, and when he really should have fallen, he doesn’t. He holds himself up and tries to hop onto the horse in front of him.

Another half a turn, and Haechan is propping his chin on the head of his horse to meet Mark halfway, who’s standing in front of Haechan rather than sitting like the rest of them. He looks up with a glimmer in his eyes as Haechan talks on and on with vigor.

Doyoung, now back on the grass, a few feet distanced from the platform for safety, has his arms crossed, observing. There’s a fondness to his gaze though, as he scans the delicate paintings lining the canopy of the carousel, to the boys, hopping around, each circle around a whole different timeline with how quick their games change. 

Jaehyun can’t bring himself to shut the carousel off. They can play for a little longer, if it means the happy laughter and youth and love will continue to ring in the air. 

  
  


Taeyong’s birthday had long passed already. Summer days are filled with endless rehearsals and more extravagant shows, for business is much better in those warm months. So, Taeyong’s birthday fades into the background, and he had let it, seeing how absolutely exhausted the cast had been with the tight schedule of a show every other night.

Months have passed, and they slow their travel pace to rest up for the winter season. This had also allowed them enough time to plan Taeyong a surprise party, to make up for all the days he had stayed up late to finish up leftover work because some of them just collapsed in bed with a half-uttered promise to clean up after a short rest.

Chenle and Jisung had dragged him off to visit some of the neighboring farms, under the pretense of buying fresh produce. This gives the rest enough time to set up the tent with some decorations and food, which couldn’t really pass as actual food with the only person knowing how to cook absent from the process. They manage the best they can.

When the boys push a clueless Taeyong through the tent entrance, he nearly burst into tears. 

A chorus of _ happy birthdays_ echoes as he made his way in, a hand covering mouth to hold in his sniffles. His hair grows blonde from the roots, lighter than the usual honey color. And he smiles, eyes still glassy.

It’s a contagious joy, and Jaehyun has never felt more at home.

Yuta and Ten each have a tall bottle in hand, and they pop the champagne open, careful not to spill any. They fill glass after glass, setting them in a grid on the table until the bottles are empty.

Taeyong looks as if he wants to grab the glass out of Jisung’s hand. “They’re too young, Yuta.” 

Jisung, noticing Taeyong’s concerned gaze, clutches his flute closer to his body.

“Taeyong, it’s your birthday. Let loose a little!” Yuta says, and he finishes off the last drops of the champagne directly from the bottle.

“I don’t think that’s how it works—”

“This is why we like Yuta the most,” Haechan snickers. “He lets us do illegal things.”

Yuta sends Taeyong a, _ See, I’m right, _ look, before ducking away in case he gets whacked across the head.

They carved out a small area for a campfire in the center sandpit, and Jaemin thrusts his marshmallow on a stick into the flames as Jungwoo guides its light source to illuminate the night with a gentle, orange color. Next to them, Jeno sticks his hands into the flames and lets out a sigh. He pokes at Jaemin’s marshmallow and proceeds to pluck it off the stick, tossing it into his mouth. 

Jaemin only narrows his eyes and stabs his stick at Jeno’s hand, which does absolutely nothing.

The tent bustles with life as they drink, eat, and dance to the heart’s content. They hardly have full parties like this. 

Doyoung clears his throat a few times to get the attention of the party. It takes another moment for them to settle.

He holds up his glass, filled with bubbly gold liquid, and his eyes almost glow an equal gold. Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s ever seen Doyoung so happy and content. His face, usually lined with stress, brightens, almost as intensely as the mirror lights behind them. 

The rest of the circus brings their glass up too. Some have actual flutes, while others have simple cups. But even the youngest ones, who Jaehyun knows for a fact are too young to consume alcohol, have their cups filled, not yet confiscated by Taeyong, it seems. And to Jaehyun’s own surprise, he has one too, a clear glass pinched between his fingers.

“A toast, for the star of the hour,” Doyoung says. “The one behind all of our antics, who supports us and loves us unconditionally. To Taeyong.”

Taeyong’s cheeks flush a rose gold like his hair. He grins shyly as he clinks his own glass with everyone around him, including Jaehyun. 

The night goes on, and so do the festivities. Taeyong is livelier than ever, let lose by some alcohol, like everyone else. At some point, Lucas begins to sing his heart out in a tuneless rendition of the Birthday song, to which they join in on, leaving Taeyong in a fit of giggles, curling into Ten’s chest with body-wracking laughter. 

And at some point, Jaehyun finds himself sitting with Taeyong on a bench further off from the conversations the rest were engaged in. Doyoung had been pulled away by again to fill some game that’s lacking in players.

Taeyong rests his head on Jaehyun’s shoulder and hiccups. Jaehyun smiles to himself, and sips at his drink.

“We haven’t had such fun in a long time,” he says, resting a hand on his stomach. “I might be sick from all this food.”

“I’m more surprised we didn’t poison you,” Jaehyun jokes.

“So am I.”

Taeyong might have nodded off to sleep and Jaehyun wouldn’t have noticed until he felt Taeyong twist his neck to rest his forehead on Jaehyun’s shoulder instead.

“I shouldn’t be ungrateful for this, I know,” he mumbles, quiet against Jaehyun. “But I just realized I never got to spend a birthday with him.”

Jaehyun blinks a few times to focus back on Taeyong. “Who?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, and hums, “Someone I used to love.” He then adjusts himself again to lean his body against Jaehyun, who acts as his support. “I suppose this is much better, though. They’re my family. They won’t leave.”

Jaehyun’s not sure if he’s fit to hear Taeyong spill his past when he’s likely too out of his head to remember it.

But he goes on. “He was my first love, Jaehyun, you must understand I can’t just let something like that go. It would never be that easy.”

“You shouldn’t dwell on that time. You have a home _ here._” Jaehyun’s not sure if he had kept the venomous jealousy from seeping into his voice then, but Taeyong doesn’t flinch, just hiccups again.

“No, Jaehyun, you don’t get it—” Taeyong isn’t arguing back, because his voice is a defeated whisper. “You don’t forget the person who made a heaven out of a living hell, even if it was just for a moment. He—”

Taeyong chokes forward on a sob, and Jaehyun holds onto his hands, if only to be some semblance of a grounding force for him. His hair, though still blonde at the tips, becomes black ink dripping through the strands. 

“Forget it. It’s pointless.”

“Taeyong, I’ll listen—”

He tilts his head to Jaehyun, his eyes puffy and filled with tears. “Without opinion? You aren’t like that. I know how you are, and nobody can know.”

“Doyoung and Ten are you friends, too.”

Taeyong sends him a sharp glare. “They _ especially _ can’t know. If they knew, they won’t stop until they find and kill everyone who had fucked me until I broke. And I can’t have them do that. It’s too much.”

His words are rash and unfiltered, and Jaehyun needs to step back before either of them lash out. There can’t be a repeat of the past.

Taeyong stands, taking a deep breath. He conducts himself, shifting his hair back to its honey blonde and hiding his blotchy cheeks under an illusion of a happy, healthy glow. His frown still gives it all away, even as he slips away into the party again.

Jaehyun doesn’t have time to dwell on it though as someone barrels into him from behind, making him let out a small, “Oof.”

“Chenle, get off. You’re going to suffocate me,” he wheezes out as he tries to unlock the arms looped around his neck. 

“It’s not me.”

Jaehyun cranes his neck around slightly with the little mobility he has and is surprised to see a head of orange hair connected to the arms around him. Chenle comes up beside him and scowls at the sight.

“Jisung, I need you to let go,” Jaehyun says.

“No,” Jisung retorts, squeezing him even tighter.

Jaehyun looks to Chenle for help, but only receives a glare in return. 

Jaehyun struggles to pry Jisung’s arms off of him to no avail while Chenle quietly broods next to him. The tall boy may have sticks for limbs, but he’s got quite a lot of strength.

“Jisung, please, can you let go?”

“But you’re comfortable,” Jisung whines, hitting his forehead against Jaehyun’s arm despite being a bit too tall to do that comfortably. “And warm.”

Jaehyun’s beginning to see why Taeyong was so against letting the kids drink. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Jisung like this, and quite frankly, it’s a little unnerving.

Finally, like a beacon of light, a god coming down from the heavens, Jaehyun spots Kun entering the tent and calls out to him.

“Kun!”

The tailor turns around, takes one look at Jaehyun’s predicament, and sighs, rerouting his path to walk to Jaehyun.

“Come on boys, it’s past your bedtime.” Kun tugs Jisung away from Jaehyun, but the boy just scrambles back and clings tightly to Jaehyun’s middle.

“No, I wanna stay with Jaehyun.”

“No, Jisung. Jaehyun isn’t your teddy bear, and _ you _ need to go to sleep. You too, Chenle. Wash up and go to bed.”

“I’m not leaving without Jisung,” Chenle says defiantly.

“But I wanna stay up and play with Jaehyun tonight!”

“Jisung, I’m tired, let’s _ go,” _Chenle snaps. 

Jaehyun can feel the tips of Jisung’s hair tickle his neck when the boy shakes his head again.

Chenle bristles and clenches his jaw. “Fine then. If you love Jaehyun that much, you can stay with him. I’m going to sleep.” He turns on his heel and heads for the exit, then turns around after a few steps and says as an afterthought, “_Alone._”

“Chenle!” Jisung calls out after him, but the boy doesn’t turn around, violently pushing aside the flap of the tent and walking straight out.

Jaehyun feels Jisung’s arms around him loosen and fall. When he turns around, he’s startled to see tears starting to well up in Jisung’s eyes as he stares forlornly at the exit where Chenle had disappeared.

From beside him, Kun sighs and pulls Jisung into a hug. 

“Why is he angry, Kun? I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just wanted to have some fun,” Jisung says quietly between sniffled sobs. 

Kun smooths down Jisung's hair and lets him cry into his shirt, patting his back in a gentle, calming rhythm. “Jisung, he’s not mad, okay? He’s just so used to having all of your attention that I think he’s frustrated that he doesn’t have it today. Besides, you’re both not thinking straight right now.”

Jisung pulls away from Kun slightly to look him in the eyes. “Are you sure he’s not mad?”

Kun places his hands on Jisung’s shoulders. “I’m sure. He loves you, Jisung. Now let’s go find him and you two can get some rest, okay?”

Jisung nods, and Kun takes his hand in his, leading them away towards the exit of the tent. Maybe it’s just the alcohol, but Jaehyun can’t help but think about how small Jisung looks there, being pulled along by Kun like a child. They’re young, and naive, and for some reason, it makes Jaehyun feel a little uneasy again. 

The party ends as more and more of them retire for the night. Jaehyun sticks around, kicking through the mess littered around the tent, looking for stray glassware someone may have left in some corner in a haze. 

He doesn’t mean to intrude, but he doesn’t leave either, opting to feign busywork. He picks through half-fallen streamers and deflated balloons with his back turned.

“I have something for you.”

Doyoung offers Taeyong a box neatly wrapped in a ribbon, and Taeyong takes it delicately, pinching at the end of the ribbon to untie it. He unlatches the metal clip in the front, and his eyes sparkle when he finds what’s inside.

“I can’t believe you actually bought it—” Taeyong holds a hand over his gasp as he stares at his gift. “Thank you, so much.”

He wraps his arms around Doyoung’s neck for a tight embrace, and his hair goes a deep blossom pink shade Jaehyun had never seen before but knows exactly what it could mean. He tries his best to step further away inconspicuously. He still notices Taeyong press a chaste kiss to Doyoung’s cheek though, before stepping back to admire his gift some more. 

Jaehyun pretends the burning feeling in his chest isn’t there. He gathers his box of dirty plates and glasses, dropping them off at the kitchen on his way out of the tent with a hurried pace.

Jaehyun thinks that between his early morning adventures and late-night strolls, wandering around while the rest of the circus is asleep has become a habit of his. It provides a moment for him to rest, to keep to himself, with only the moon for company.

He’s walked far beyond the unspoken border of the circus, but he decides to follow the rule that as long as he can still see the tent, it’s a valid space for him to explore. He’s made it to a line of trees, an orchard, when a voice from above makes him jump.

“What are you thinking about, stranger?”

Jaehyun looks up to see Ten slowly appear in the moonlight, perched on a tree branch, a bottle of rum in hand.

Instead of answering, Jaehyun just glances at the red and white striped tent glowing faintly in the distance.

Ten clicks his tongue. “Join me up here, Jaehyun.”

He hesitates for a moment, for it’s been quite a long time since he climbed a tree, but decides to trust his instinct. Jaehyun finds a knot in the tree he can step onto, then pulls himself up to Ten’s branch, taking a seat next to him.

Ten silently holds out his bottle, a peace offering. Jaehyun accepts it and takes a swig out of the dark glass. He coughs as the sharp liquor burns down his throat. Ten laughs beside him.

“How do you _ drink _ that?”

“When you’ve seen enough shit in life, you learn how to down the hard stuff.”

“I see,” Jaehyun says, clearing his throat and handing Ten the bottle back. The silence returns again for a moment, and Jaehyun looks down at his swinging feet. “So…”

Suddenly, Ten throw his arms out in a grand gesture, the bottle in his left hand almost hitting Jaehyun in the face. “Alas, the fire had been snuffed out ages ago, drowned by a waterfall, the flame’s greatest foe. You mustn’t worry, dearest.” Ten lays his head back dramatically, the back of his hand drooping over his forehead. He then purses his lips into a mischievous smile. “How’s my accent? Proper enough?”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at him. 

“I’ve been studying some Shakespeare with Kun. He’s quite the one for a romantic tragedy. I must say, though, the writing is much too dramatic for my taste.” Ten sits up and leans his back against the center trunk of the tree, a leg dangling on each side of the branch. “But my point still stands.”

“And that would be?” Jaehyun isn’t sure he follows.

“A budding romance will only bloom when given light and water. Without the proper measures, it rots.” Ten closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the moonlight. “In more blunt terms, they were in a relationship, yes, months ago. But that’s a thing in the past that we no longer have to worry about.”

Jaehyun’s glad he knows it’s the alcohol speaking, or else he would have thought Ten had been replaced with some otherworldly creature with how straightforward he’s being with him. He tries to ignore how he automatically relaxes after hearing those words.

Ten snickers to himself, nose scrunching.

“Get off your high horse. What is it?” 

“Please, you’re so obvious, Jaehyun. It’s amusing to watch you stare at him all day long.”

Jaehyun’s can feel heat rushing to his face. “_I do not._”

“Trust me,” Ten says, and his head tilts forward, gaze lowering to the ground. Then, quieter, “I know how it feels.”

Jaehyun looks at him in surprise. “Doyoung?”

Ten shakes his head. “Taeyong.”

Jaehyun doesn’t know what to say, but thankfully Ten continues, filling the silence.

“It’s alright, though. It was nothing more than a fleeting infatuation. We were trapeze partners, we were with each other every waking moment. It was bound to happen at some point or another. He’s probably better off now though. He’s stronger on his own, _that_ he’s proven to us more than enough times.“ Ten hesitates for a moment. “But after a certain _incident_ following a show, he had to stop. He couldn’t do it anymore.”

And in that moment, Ten’s voice drops low, grave.

“A heart of gold and a face like his doesn’t belong in the slums. He was poor, desperate, and he could change his appearance to fit anyone’s _ preferences_.” He says the last word with a bit of venom.

It’s not difficult to connect the dots now. Jaehyun tries not to imagine the situation, but it’s hard not to. He swallows the lump in his throat, and says, “The incident. What happened afterwards?”

Ten takes another swig out of his bottle, tossing his head back. “I think we all finally realized that we’re better as brothers. We protect each other, we have each other’s backs, and we’re all equal. No one gets left behind, no one is the odd one out. Doyoung and Taeyong ended their relationship, and Taeyong decided to stop performing for good.”

“And you?”

Ten hums for a moment, considering. “Some part of my heart must have fractured a little. Perhaps not from love, but more from the fact that I’d never be able to perform with Taeyong again, or maybe from the pain of seeing the hardships my brothers had to go through. But it’s okay.” Ten smiles slightly to himself. “I had someone to pick up the pieces.” 

Jaehyun takes a look at the position of the moon in the sky and decides it’s time for him to retire for the night. He makes his way down the tree as Ten dangles from his branch by his arms.

“I’m glad you’ve sorted out your affairs,” Jaehyun says. “You seem happy.”

“I am. Rest well, Jaehyun,” Ten replies, swinging himself back onto the tree, and climbing higher up. Jaehyun makes his way towards the direction of the tent, and he when he turns back to check up on Ten again, just in case, he sees a figure offering a thick blanket up towards the branches. The shadow of Ten drops back down to the floor, taking the blanket, and the two figures become silhouettes. They settle against the bottom of the tree, which is the last time he sees them.

When Jaehyun gets back to the car, the rest of the boys are asleep, and he’s glad to find Jisung cuddling his head into the body of a golden retriever. All is well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sure it is. You just have to pull the lever at the right time to make sure you don’t end in the same spot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title: Kun’s salad is wilting

Kun reaches past Jaehyun’s arm to grab the little tomato-shaped pincushion, and with his index and middle finger, he pinches four pins off and places the tomato back on the table. With the other hand, he diligently folds the cloth in perfect ruffles, poking the pins in quick succession. Sometimes, it amazes Jaehyun to the point that he stops what he’s doing just to watch Kun’s quick and precise fingers. 

And sometimes, he really wonders how Kun manages to function in such a messy manner.

He supposes the magic intuition is what allows him to sit in the room, corners cramped with bolts of fabric, at least three mannequins set up with half-sewn jacket sleeves, the table with the sewing machine completely covered with boxes and tins of little glittery trinkets. And needles and pins, _ everywhere_. Jaehyun is sure he’s sat on a stray pin far too many times to count.

Kun puts the cloth down on the table and disappears under the surface. Jaehyun really shouldn’t be surprised that after a moment, he reappears with a container of golden buttons.

“Jaehyun, do you mind calling Doyoung in for me? He needs to try on the new tailcoat.” Kun takes a needle and threads it with nimble fingers. Once he’s focused on stitching the buttons along the edge of the cloth, Jaehyun realizes Kun’s off in his own world again. 

As he approaches the tent, Jaehyun hears a high-pitched screech, then loud, boisterous fits of laughter. When he pushes away the flap, he sees Ten standing on one of the trapeze platforms, one hand holding onto the bar, the other clutching at the side railing to support himself as he bends over, wheezing. Taeyong doesn’t seem to be faring any better than Ten, hanging from his knees on the other bar in the middle of the rig, face and hair getting redder by the minute.

“It’s called _ catch _ and release, Taeyong. Not _ miss and let Doyoung fall to his death_,” Doyoung yells from his place below them in the net.

“I haven’t done this in a long time!” Taeyong retorts, pulling himself up into a sitting position on the bar.

Ten, still doubling over, says, “Did you—” He dissolves into another fit of laughter. “—hear the way he screamed?” And with an over-exaggerated shriek, much like that of the little kids that run through the circus grounds on show days, Ten sends the three into another laughing attack.

Jaehyun walks up to the net to get Doyoung’s attention. “I wasn’t aware you were a trapeze artist as well,” he says with a quirk of a brow.

“Oh, I’m not. I think almost everyone in the circus has learned how to do a catch and release at some point or another. It’s some kind of twisted initiation Ten likes to do whenever someone joins. Something about needing to see if he can trust them or not.”

“I see. Kun wants you in the costume shop, by the way.” Jaehyun watches as Doyoung struggles to get out of the net, tripping over the holes as he tries to crawl his way out. He pulls down on the side of the net to try and give Doyoung some assistance. Instead, Doyoung’s foot gets caught on another hole, and he comes tumbling off onto the grass in a heap. Jaehyun can’t help but laugh.

“Jaehyun, come join us!”

Jaehyun looks up at Ten warily and slightly pales at the wicked grin blooming on the other’s face. “Do I have to?”

“You haven’t had your initiation ceremony yet.”

Jaehyun starts to protest, rambling that he’s not _ actually _ a part of the circus, that he’s not a performer, but Doyoung cuts him off with a small shove to his shoulder in the direction of the ladder.

“You’ll be fine. Go on, I’ll spot you.”

That really doesn’t give Jaehyun much comfort, seeing as Doyoung had fallen just minutes earlier, but he makes his way over to the ladder anyways, knowing that he won’t be allowed to leave unless he does so.

By the time he climbs up to the platform, Ten and Taeyong have switched places, Ten now seated on the stationary bar hanging opposite from Jaehyun, and Taeyong now back on the platform, waiting for Jaehyun with chalk in his hands.

He accepts the chalk and starts rubbing it on his palms as Taeyong explains the concept to him. “All you need to do is use your forward momentum to swing your knees up and over the bar. Wait until you’re going backwards again, then release your hands and arch your back with your arms extended towards Ten.” Taeyong looks to Ten for a moment. “He’ll catch you. I think.”

Taeyong demonstrates for him once, gracefully turning through the air, and that just makes Jaehyun a little more nervous to go.

Taeyong swings back onto the platform and he hands Jaehyun the bar, instructing him to move to the edge with his toes hanging off. Standing here now and looking down at where Doyoung is standing, Jaehyun realizes he’s much higher than he thought. He’s quite glad that he doesn’t have a fear of heights. 

He hopes that his arms will stay intact, and he jumps off the platform, doing the best he can to follow Taeyong’s yelled instructions. And surprisingly, without much of a hiccup, Ten’s hands latch onto Jaehyun’s wrists, and they swing, once forward, and once back.

“Good job. I didn’t think you’ll be able to do it on the first try,” Ten says. And then, Ten’s fingers loosen, and Jaehyun’s falling into the nets without even a warning. His heart races until he ricochets back up slightly after hitting the net. He exhales a short laugh. 

Doyoung helps roll him off the net in a far smoother manner than he did earlier.

Jaehyun dusts his hands off against his pants, painting them white, and straightens out his clothes. “Alright, we need to go before Kun decides to kill us.”

“Boo, you ruined all the fun,” Ten yells, puffing out his cheeks. “What a prude.”

Beside him, Taeyong, legs dangling off the trapeze platform, giggles and elbows Ten’s calf. “Let Kun live for a moment. He does so much for us.”

“I’m sure he can wait a couple minutes so Jaehyun can go again,” Ten tries, but Taeyong pokes a finger at his thigh. 

“No, he can’t,” Taeyong says. To Jaehyun he shouts, “Leave now before Ten comes down and drags you back up here!”

Jaehyun gives him a quick wave of thanks, before heading off back towards the costume room, assuming Doyoung will follow suit.

The sliding door of the room is slightly ajar when they arrive. Kun never leaves the door open, in fear that some tiny gust of wind will blow his work apart. But then, Jaehyun hears the quiet voices come to a stop, and he ducks around the side of the car, away from the door.

“I don’t know if I can do the right thing, Kun.” It’s a distinct voice, but today it’s raw and broken. “I don’t deserve him.”

“Haechan, you have a heart of gold. In the end, you’ll always choose the right thing. The trouble you go through now will just be something to look back at in the future.” Jaehyun can almost see the reassuring smile on Kun, who likely took Haechan’s hand in his for support. “I believe in you. And he’ll love you, no matter what.”

Jaehyun jumps when Doyoung suddenly pops up in front of him. “Are you eavesdropping, Jung Jaehyun?”

“I’m not, I swear—” Doyoung raises an eyebrow at him. “Not really, at least.”

“Have you not learned your lesson from the first time?” Doyoung teases. “Let’s go, Kun’s ready for us.”

Haechan hops out of the car, and Jaehyun can see his puffy cheeks and swollen eyes. 

Doyoung pulls himself up and into the costume shop, and Kun sighs. “It’s been nearly twenty minutes. What took you so long?”

Jaehyun stays by the door and sticks an accusing thumb at Doyoung. “_This one here _ thought it would alright for _ me _ to be on the trapeze.”

“That is a lie, I had nothing to do with it,” Doyoung counters. “It was—”

“Ten. Of course,” Kun finishes, but there’s a fond little smile on his face. He makes his way towards a mannequin and carefully takes the tailcoat off, handing it to Jaehyun, instructing him to hold it by the seam to avoid crinkling. “I have to grab some materials from the storage. Help Doyoung put that on, will you? He tends to tear the seams all the time when he tries to do it himself.”

And he slips around Jaehyun and out the car, leaving the two of them in silence.

Doyoung makes his way to the fitting platform, pulling down his rolled-up sleeves so they fall to his wrists. He checks it in the mirror in front of him and pats down a wrinkle on his chest.

Jaehyun holds the jacket open for him to slip into. He holds his breath. There’s something far too intimate about him tugging the sleeves of the jacket over Doyoung’s shoulder, careful not to rip any of the stitches. He refuses to look in the mirror.

He moves around to the front, between Doyoung and the mirror, and pulls the three gold buttons at his waist, quick to link them together. Jaehyun then looks up, with Doyoung elevated by the step, and notices the mess of his hair from being caught in the trapeze netting. 

He bites the inside of his cheek and reaches up to pull the stray strands down to its rightful place. Doyoung’s stare feels like fire on his skin, and it burns more as Jaehyun trails his hands down to flatten the lapels of the coat.

He looks utterly charming, and Jaehyun can’t bother denying that as the first thought that pops up in his head when he takes a small step back, dropping his arms to his side as he looks Doyoung up and down.

“Jaehyun.” Doyoung’s voice is raspy for a moment saying his name, before he clears his throat. He tugs at the gold cufflinks at his wrists. “If you aren’t too busy, I’d like if you would accompany me to the city tomorrow.”

Jaehyun doesn’t realize how close they still are, but he doesn’t bother moving away. “The city?” 

“I have some special errands to run here.” Doyoung stops, as if to consider his next words. “You haven’t left the circus perimeters since you joined. I hope it could be the little freedom I can still give you without putting us in danger.”

_ The city. _

“I— _Yes_, I’d enjoy that. A trip out.”

Jaehyun nearly knocks the mirror over when he jumps back, away from Doyoung, when he hears the doors slide open. “So, how does it fit?”

Doyoung straightens out his collar, moves his gaze back to the mirror as Kun fusses over the crease he managed to get on the back. Jaehyun steps back and out of his way, and all he can think about is the twinkling lights of the city, and what it has to offer to him.

It feels like his body cannot function properly with all the anticipation for the following day, that he had tossed and turned into the early hours before deciding that sleeping now would be of no use. Another midnight walk it is, so it seems.

Something automatically takes him to the carousel. It’s likely not a good idea, to run it in the middle of the night, when the machine is so bright and so loud, but he decides that it’s far enough away from the train that a short ride wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Jaehyun hops on the platform and swings his leg over the fencing. The metal creaks underneath him. A quick turn of a key and flip of the lever illuminates the night sky. He makes his way onto the carousel and randomly picks a horse to sit on, and slowly, it spins, up and down, and he lets his mind fly loose with all of the unspoken thoughts he has kept stored away until he could fully process them. His family, his job, his unexplained power.

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't notice the carousel stop moving until Ten calls out to him. He turns to see the acrobat standing with his hand on the lever. 

"What are you doing out here so late, Jaehyun?"

Jaehyun pauses, looking down at his hands, wrapped loosely around the golden pole of the horse he’s on. She’s a white mare, the only one, with a blonde mane and pale blue saddle, almost like a porcelain teacup. It’s the most popular one when Jaehyun runs the ride, he’s noticed. But it’s not just her beauty that attracts the crowd of little boys and girls to her. It’s the general energy she imbues, of royalty and power, some sort of invisible force calling attention to her, and her only, ever so subtly. 

It reminds Jaehyun of someone he knows. 

“Thinking, I guess.”

“There’s no need for you to do it out here alone at midnight, though.”

Jaehyun lifts his head to Ten, who’s wrapped in a thick coat, arms crossed to brace himself from the bitter cold of the north. “I needed some air.”

“I see.”

Ten doesn’t make a notion to move, so Jaehyun looks away, towards the dim lights of the city, miles and miles away.

Jaehyun barely feels the carousel start up again, until he glances back over to see the lever pulled back up, and Ten gently stepping onto the platform. He hops gracefully onto the horse next to Jaehyun, a black stallion with red embellishments, paint peeling to reveal white underneath. Despite how light Ten is, the horse still creaks as he sits on it. Jaehyun can almost hear the rust of the gears moving against each other as it rises up and down. The horse must have been beautiful at one time, so well-loved to the point that it just suddenly _ broke. _ He reminds himself that one day, he should refurbish it, to bring the stallion back to its former glory, to match the beauty of the mare next to it. 

They turn slowly, Jaehyun’s view of the city disappearing for a bit as it blends into the trees of the forest they’ve settled in for the night. Within the few minutes of silence, the city reappears, and it somehow glows even brighter the second, the third time it passes his eyes. 

“So what did you need to think about that brought you out here?”

Jaehyun’s eyes snap back to Ten. 

“Just… Life here, I suppose.”

“You’re holding up fine so far,” Ten says. “Could be worse.”

“Thanks… I think?”

“No problem.”

Of course, trust Ten to be cryptic like that.

There’s silence again, and Jaehyun looks up at the mirrors along the inner circumference of the carousel, right above the various paintings of cherubs and angels floating in the clouds. He can almost imagine the music that usually plays along with the ride, filling the empty air.

“Do you ever miss your home?”

Jaehyun’s almost surprised to hear that come out of Ten’s mouth. He didn’t think Ten was one to bother engaging in small talk.

“I think you want me to say yes.”

Ten nods once. “I suppose I do.”

“Then it must be quite unfortunate for you to hear that I don’t.”

“I didn’t think you would.” Ten moves his feet from the stirrups to the saddle of the horse, standing up completely, with the help of the pole for balance. He lifts a leg up precariously, and lets one of his arms extend out next to him.

“Ten, I don’t think that horse is strong enough to—”

Ten places a foot atop the horse’s head and leans forward, testing how sturdy the painted wood is. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” 

“Doyoung will actually slaughter me if you break it.”

“Let him kill you. It would be exciting to see him actually use his gun for once.” But Ten steps back to the body of the horse and settles down on the seat again. “This carousel is one of the few things we have that isn’t magic here. We have to reassemble and control it manually for every show. If I’m honest, it’s quite a pointless hassle. But it’s interesting though, isn’t it? That Doyoung keeps it. You would think he would want to be able to move quickly whenever Johnny gets close, but he's always insisted on bringing the carousel with us.”

Jaehyun looks at the large structure. It is, in fact, extremely bulky, and takes several hours to assemble, even if the one who does it has practiced hundreds of times already. 

"I still don't really understand why, honestly." Ten swings a leg around so he's sitting side-saddle and facing Jaehyun. "When I asked him, he said it was important. Said he wouldn't be able to let it go until his life stopped circling around." Ten pauses for a moment. "I have a hunch, but I’ve never fully understood what he meant by that.”

Ten kicks his feet back and forth, unable to fully touch the ground even as the horse reaches its lowest dip. He looks so much younger now, his youth settling in his body for the first time since Jaehyun arrived. Ten’s not as high-strung as Doyoung, but he’s always been tense around Jaehyun, he could easily tell. The fact that Ten is even here, _ talking _ to him on his own accord, without any outside influence, is a miracle in itself.

“Doyoung isn't as strong as you think he is. Even after creating the circus, after taking care of us, I think he still feels lost. We're safe, but Doyoung never stops worrying. About us, about Johnny. And until Johnny stops hunting us, I don't think Doyoung will ever feel at peace."

Ten quiets for a moment. “I’m the only other one who’s seen him.” It comes out as a whisper, but it’s loud against the silence. “Well, heard him. I know Johnny has some sort of deeper connection to Doyoung, something he isn’t telling us about. Johnny can’t just be a simple government hunter, not with the familiarity he was talking to Doyoung with that night. I don’t know what history they have, and I’m not sure I want to know, but Doyoung has been restless ever since.”

“What exactly _ happened _ that night?” Jaehyun fidgets with the hem of his coat. Not his coat. _ Doyoung’s _ coat. He had run out in a hurry and grabbed the first thing off the side of his bed.

Ten tilts his head up and looks to the sky. His dark eyes sparkle with childish wonder, but it’s masked by a fuzzy gleam of pain. “I had to hide. Doyoung told me to hide, so he could confront Johnny alone.” There’s a mild tone of regret in his voice. “I wish I never heard them. Or heard it all, I don’t know. It’s hard to process, really. The fact that Johnny and Doyoung used to _ know _ each other. Johnny’s not just some hunter out for magical blood. He’s— he’s out for _ our _magical blood.”

Jaehyun takes a sharp breath. “Why would he only look for you? If he’s a government hunter then… Shouldn’t he be looking for everyone? The most dangerous ones?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. ‘Famous magic hunter Johnny locks up a hundred magic users across the country within two months.’ ‘Magic hunter Johnny euthanizes caravan of rogue magic users in the West.’ I can just imagine the headline for our capture. ‘Famous turned infamous: _ Cirque des Perdus _ located and closed for harboring magic users for money.’” Ten’s sneer is filled with eerie disgust. “I’m sure you’d be able to find a nice title for that. Everywhere Johnny’s been, he’s hunted down practically every magic user in the area. Except for Doyoung, apparently.”

Jaehyun doesn’t understand. Why would Doyoung be an exception? If anything, the circus is the largest mass of magic users in one area at one time. The eradication of them would be enough to make it in the history books.

“He’s become obsessed with Doyoung, in a way. Johnny’s had every opportunity to kill him, only to have him slip through his fingers every time. It’s been nearly four years since this has started. It’s almost purposeful, the way Johnny just lets him go_. _ I think—” Ten pauses, to recollect his thoughts. He crosses his legs and leans back ever so slightly. “I think he’s waiting for the perfect moment to kill him. Just eliminating him won’t be enough.”

“What could _ possibly _be worse than death?” Just talking about Doyoung, dead, sends an unwanted shiver down Jaehyun’s spine.

“Johnny is meticulous. That’s what I’ve learned. He’s plotting some sort of revenge that will absolutely rip Doyoung to shreds. And that’s where we come in. We’re who Doyoung loves. We’re his family.” Ten’s eyes go glassy as he remembers. “‘_You destroyed my family. And one day, I’ll destroy yours, if that’s the last thing I’ll ever do_.’” 

Jaehyun can’t imagine the burden of keeping those exact words ingrained in his head for years on end, the inevitable promise of death, a brutal murder. 

Ten continues, but Jaehyun can tell his voice is beginning to crack away, from the sheer amount he’s been saying in the past minutes, and the emotion clouding his head. “I tell myself I’ll keep those words to myself to the day I die. I could never let the others know that Doyoung is the reason we’re in danger, not when he’s given them a place to call home. They’re just _ children. _ We’re all just kids lost in time.” His last words break off to nothing.

The back of Jaehyun’s throat feels dry. “Doyoung won’t let you die. I know he won’t. He— I can tell he loves the circus too much to just let Johnny get to it so easily. And I trust him to keep you safe.”

“I know.”

Ten looks _ at _ Jaehyun, not down at him, for once. He massages the base of his neck, playing with the collar of the jacket there. “I think Johnny’s a lot more like Doyoung than I’d like to admit. They’re fighting for a lost cause. Johnny wants revenge for something that can’t be fixed. Doyoung’s goal is to keep the circus safe from Johnny, as if a giant group of traveling magic users won’t attract attention. And in the end… We all know how it’s going to work out. Only one of them can win. They can chase each other all they want, but one way or another, they can’t both make it.”

The revelation only makes Jaehyun more willing to help. He knows now, he’ll choose to help Doyoung, no matter what.

“Doyoung has us. We’ll fight for him. He won’t be alone.”

The translucent gleam in Ten’s eyes disappear to only reflect the lights of the carousel, its bright yellow dots flashing. “You’re good for him, Jaehyun. He’s been much happier since you came. I hate to admit it, but you’ve changed him. It’s been too long since he’s looked at anyone like that. Not since him and Taeyong. But you know, Jaehyun, you and Doyoung can't keep dancing around in circles forever. It's going to have to come to a stop eventually.”

“We _ aren’t _ going in circles. We’ve been doing just fine_.”_

“Agree to disagree.”

Jaehyun adjusts his grip on the pole. “Why does it matter to you? I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t, even though we’re on a truce. But I'm tired of the push and pull the two of you keep forcing yourselves into. I think we both know Doyoung can be quite the fool sometimes."

Ten looks up at the sky, where the moon is a brilliant white against an otherwise charcoal black backdrop. "But really he's just scared. His whole life with the circus has been dedicated to protecting us. His greatest fear is not being in control, not being able to keep us safe. If anything, it only got worse after the incident with Taeyong.” Ten shudders slightly at that. “Doyoung is hard to love because of that, Jaehyun. He’ll always put _ us _ first, and his own needs and wants last, so he's not going to be the one to take the initiative. I can see there’s… Something there between you two. Your problems aren't going to fix themselves. It's not magic."

Jaehyun’s frustration only grows. “So then what? As you said, he’s preoccupied. I’m nothing but a simple, _ human _reporter who’s just a distraction. I’m should— I’m going to leave once an opportunity presents itself.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“What?”

“That you’ll leave.” Ten’s lips curve into a cheeky grin. “You love us too much.”

_ You have someone to love here. _

Ten doesn’t say it, but Jaehyun can hear the words just as clearly as if he had, and looks away from Ten and out at the city lights again as he fights off a blush.

“For the record, everyone loves you back, especially the kids. But I’ve seen you with the older ones too, and the walls they put up around you at first aren’t there anymore. You even got Kun to like you, and he’s as dense as a rock. And as for me, I don’t hate you as a person, Jaehyun. You can be obtuse sometimes, but you have a good heart.”

Jaehyun tries not to take offense to that. “And what about Doyoung?” He attempts to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“What about him?”

“I’m hardly mean anything to him.”

“You haven’t seen him look at you.” Ten almost smiles. “There’s so much wonder in his face. You’re so different from anyone else Doyoung has ever seen. He _ wants _to know you. But he won’t do it on his own accord.”

Jaehyun groans. “So he’s that kind of person…”

“Unfortunately for you, yes, he is.” Ten turns his head back to Jaehyun and looks him straight in the eyes, and it makes Jaehyun uncomfortable, how intrusive it seems, like he’s looking into the depths of Jaehyun’s very soul. “You’re the one who has to stop this, Jaehyun. Tell me, what do you do here every day?”

The carousel manages to turn right to the control panel, and Jaehyun glances briefly at the worn down lever. “I watch the show. Then I work this carousel all day. I make absolutely no difference here.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You’ve seen the looks on the children’s faces when they rush onto the platform to choose their horses, I know you have. Right now, yours and Doyoung’s relationship is a lot like this carousel. It brings joy, but only in fleeting moments, before you find yourself back in the same place you started. If your relationship is this carousel, Jaehyun, and you’re the one that mans the controls, then don’t you think you’re the one that needs to stop it?” 

It scares Jaehyun how much truth is in Ten’s words, how easily Ten always seems to be able to see through him, even more so than Sicheng, who has read hundreds of thousands of people’s minds.

“I don’t know if it’s that simple, Ten.”

“Sure it is. You just have to pull the lever at the right time to make sure you don’t end in the same spot.”

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, and it comes out in white puffs. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

“I don’t know,” Ten says. “I just know that it’s the only way for this to work.”

Jaehyun wonders whether he should have a greater reaction to that, but with the way Ten says it with such nonchalance, Jaehyun can’t bring himself to even make a face. 

The point has been made. It’s up to Jaehyun to decide what to do. And easily, he chooses. There’s never been another option, really.

Ten dismounts from his horse and walks to the edge of the moving platform. Standing with his feet half on the edge, he turns his body back around to Jaehyun, and asks, “Shall we?” before jumping off and walking towards the exit gate. Jaehyun follows, but stops when he gets to the controls.

He looks up at the carousel, its bright lights and colorful paintings spinning, and when he spots the horse, _ his _ horse, coming around again, he pushes the lever down, and runs to catch up to Ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the much-anticipated carousel scene we've planned for like... forever.
> 
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	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you find it odd that you know nothing of him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title: Introducing: a lot of other characters (xiaohenyang!!)

The moment Doyoung had told Jaehyun that morning at the crack of dawn to bring his camera with him, Jaehyun had been practically bursting with anticipation. 

He had seen the skyscrapers, seen the vast glowing outline of the skyline as it reaches night, the way the hundreds of glass windows light up yellow and white when the darkness comes, when work doesn’t stop even when the sun is long gone. With the small publishing company he worked for, there had been no need to leave home. He stayed in town and was yet to reach a position of power that would require business trips to the higher branches. There had been no reason to leave, and he watched the lightboxes in the distance blink on and off from his desk window when he worked overtime.

He’s imagined how it is in real life, to walk alongside the glass buildings and look up and still not be able to see their roofs. He can almost feel the bustling workforce maneuvering its way around him to get to their jobs on time, that energy of constant busyness.

But that isn’t even half of it.

The first thing that hits him is the smell, how unnatural and how unclean it is, but it’s filled with _ people _, something that’s been lived in, over-lived in, over-crowded, and it’s not the perfect place he imagined. It’s more, so much more. 

Doyoung leads Jaehyun through the morning traffic, dodging around the large crosswalking crowds and into the smaller roads further away from the company skyscrapers. Jaehyun is so caught up in everything around him that he doesn’t bother asking where they’re going.

Eventually, they reach a little square shop sitting amidst a butcher’s and flower shop. There’s a glass window next to the door, tinted, but still clear enough to see the mauve curtains hanging on its sides.

“Take out your camera,” Doyoung says when they cross the shop’s threshold, the door jingling to signify the new customers. Jaehyun does as told, but it’s not until he looks past the empty register that he sees the door leading to a red-lit room, strings and clips hanging across its ceiling. A darkroom.

They hear the gentle pattering of footsteps and then the scratch of a stool chair against the floor before a little girl pops up from behind the counter, her pigtail braids hanging over her shoulders as she puts her arms onto the table to hold herself up and visible to the customers. “Welcome!”

“Hello there,” Doyoung says. He looks pleasantly surprised to be greeted by child of all people.

The girl looks up at the two of them in wonder for a moment, before her eyes light up. She couldn’t be more than eight years old. “How can I help you today?”

“We’d like to get some pictures developed,” Jaehyun says, gently placing his camera on the counter. She studies the machinery for a moment, marveling in the metal plating and glass lense. Then, she hops off her stool and runs off into the back room.

A moment later, she reemerges with a woman, her long hair already graying despite how youthful the rest of her seems. She smiles at the two as she takes her place next to the little girl at the register. By the similar shape in their faces and bright demeanors, he assumes they’re likely to be mother and daughter.

“Thank you for coming in today.” The woman picks up the camera on the register gingerly, and taps on its aging metal. “I can have you pictures developed in the next half an hour or so, if that wouldn’t be a bother for you?”

“No, no, take your time,” Doyoung says. “It’s still quite early in the day, after all.”

“Yeji can bring you some tea while you wait, if you would like. I’ll leave her to it.” The woman takes the camera and holds it close to her chest, and Jaehyun is relieved that his most prized possession is in safe hands.

The little girl, Yeji, skips around the counter and grabs Jaehyun and Doyoung by the hands, pulling them over to the small sitting area by the window of the shop. She disappears into the backroom quickly again, and brings back two cups of steaming tea, her small hands shaking as she carries them in on a platter. She sets it down on the coffee table between the chairs with a satisfied grin.

As they wait, Jaehyun procures a few of the photos he kept in his satchel for himself, showing them to the little girl, who settles against his leg and leans over to point at different spots in awe. Not long after, she gets a little bored and hops across Jaehyun’s legs to sit by Doyoung on the opposite seat, asking him nonsense questions that Doyoung replies to without missing a beat. He holds out his hand for her to grab onto. She pokes at the lines and scars across his skin, interrogating Doyoung about every little thing she notices. 

It’s endearing. Very much so.

Not long after, Yeji’s mother walks out with a long envelope, filled but not yet sealed. She passes the camera and envelope to Jaehyun. “I hope these came out alright.”

Jaehyun keeps his excitement down the best he can as he takes out the pictures, carding through them. They’re just as vivid and lively as the moments he had taken them in. “Yes, these came out stunning. Thank you.” 

The woman grins again and makes her way around behind the register again. Yeji’s reluctant to let go of Doyoung, but eventually gets called to clean the empty teacups away. 

Doyoung sets down the amount owed and waits for Yeji to come back so he could bid her goodbye. She grabs onto his thumb and tugs, frowning. Doyoung promises to visit again eventually, which satisfied the little girl enough that she let go. Jaehyun knows that’s likely to be a lie.

On the way out, Doyoung leans in to Jaehyun’s side, angling his face to Jaehyun’s ear, and mumbles under his breath, “She has magic.”

Doyoung leads them across the city, assuring him that he had another destination in mind. The sun is at its apex, indicating noontime, and it’s just a little bittersweet that half of their day in the city has already gone by. They’ll have to be back before dark.

They reach a short strip of residential apartments, lined up like stacked dominos, squeezed side by side to fit as many inhabitants as possible. Doyoung furrows his eyebrows as he counts the metal-plated numbers hanging on the front door of each complex. Even as he finds the one he’s been looking for, Doyoung has uncertainty in his eyes, especially as they turn the knob to enter the building.

The hall they enter is dark, with a single lightbulb at the end near the staircase that flickers ominously. Doyoung drags a finger along the narrow walls, slowly, until he reaches the last door to the side before the stairs. He knocks a knuckle on the aged wood twice, waits for a nonexistent response, and proceeds to turn the knob.

They’re met with a set of stairs that looks to lead to a dead-end, but once they reach the bottom, there’s another metal door, which Doyoung places a hand against. The door opens on its own, revealing a bar and lounge.

“I didn’t think I would be able to find it again,” Doyoung hums, stepping onto the polished wood floor, the sound of his shoes hitting the ground echoing. It’s eerily quiet, besides the low jazz music crackling out of the stereo speakers alongside the walls. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve visited.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Jaehyun says. Even with the music quiet, there’s still a thrumming through the walls that could easily be detected by the inhabitants on the floor above. Easily found, if humans just follow the sounds. “There’s only one exit.”

“It’s a sanctuary.” They pass through the private lounge, where there’s already a couple laying across the couch, each with a glass of bronze liquid in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. The lady rests her leg across the man’s lap, leaning into the smoke emitting from his lips. Doyoung leads them around to the bar instead, resting against the wall, away from the dance floor and raised platform where a grand piano sits. “There’s magical protection here. No one can find it unless another magic user specifically discloses the location. You can hardly hear a thing, even if you lived just upstairs.”

Doyoung pulls back a bar stool, peeling his suit jacket off and folding it, then places it on the tabletop. Jaehyun does the same, but drapes his coat over his stool’s back. 

“Whiskey, neat,” Doyoung says to the bartender. Then he turns to Jaehyun. “I don’t take you as much of a drinker.”

“Not my favorite.” Nonetheless, Jaehyun orders a glass of vermouth, even though he can still taste the tingling of bubbling champagne leftover from Taeyong’s birthday. Maybe drinking more alcohol isn’t the greatest idea, but at least he’s not getting anything too hard on the tastebuds.

The bartender pours their drinks, each into a short crystal glass, then slides them across the smooth mahogany bar top. Doyoung catches his and picks it up by its rim, swirling its contents in a smooth vortex.

“I’d like to show you around the city more,” he says quietly, eyes fixated on his amber whiskey. “I’ve found quite a soft spot for it in me.”

“I would love to. If we can, of course.”

“I just have a short errand to run after, and then we can spend some time to explore.” Doyoung takes a sip of his drink. He pauses for a moment, before saying, “I didn’t grow up in the city, either.”

Jaehyun lifts his glass to his lips but refrains from drinking just yet. That fact had caught him off guard. Doyoung didn’t seem like someone to have grown up in an isolated town like Jaehyun. He had far too large of a presence for that. “Is that why you like it? Being out here?”

He nods. “After I left home, I never wanted to go back to the countryside. I wanted to live in a busy world forever. I was sick of being alone and unwanted. At least out in the city, there was a chance for me, and I wasn’t just some poor forgotten boy that the rich could take in as a charity case.”

Doyoung sighs, and his drink is at his lips again as he sips. Jaehyun could only take his time and listen.

“I didn’t want to settle, and the city was just so _ extravagant_. An orphan in the city can become a beggar, but an orphan anywhere else might as well be left for the dead.” Doyoung makes a bitter face that is not a response to the fiery taste accompanying the whiskey.

It’s then that he remembered; Jaehyun knows so little of Doyoung that every comment he makes is another surprise. He had never explained his power, his family, how it all came to be. That leaves a bitter feeling in Jaehyun’s stomach that swirls with the alcohol in some unpleasant way.

“I didn’t know you were an orphan,” he says quietly, hiding his face with another sip.

Doyoung falters. “Most people don’t know.”

“We don’t know anything about you, Doyoung. You said the circus was a family. Why are you so protective of your past?” Jaehyun’s voice becomes harsher, rougher as he continues. He wants to wash it away with his drink, but it’s then that he realized the glass is already empty. He slides it forward to the bartender, and asks for a whiskey this time. He turns his head slightly to glance at Doyoung’s hand, gripping his glass with strain, and says, “You gave them a home. They’ll still support you, no matter what.”

“I’m not proud of what I was and who I associated with. If you knew, if _ they _ knew, I’d lose everything. The circus would cease to exist.”

“Nothing of your past could possibly make them lose trust in you. Why are you so paranoid?”

“They’ll run out of fear. They’ll leave to avoid danger, and soon enough, we’ll all be caught. One way or another, if they knew what I was protecting them from, it won’t end well. It’s better to be ignorant.” Doyoung’s eyes are distant and glassy when he throws back the last of his whiskey. He places the glass down gently, considering his words. “I can’t afford to lose this. It’s a family I can’t lose again. They need to be protected.”

Jaehyun knows Doyoung is avoiding names and specifics for the sole reason that he doesn’t trust Jaehyun, or even the rest of the circus. It baffles him now that they would so blindly trust a man whose identity doesn’t truly exist.

“Take a moment to let us understand you. Family is something you don’t lose that easily.” 

Doyoung looks towards him, and Jaehyun recognizes the apprehension that’s hidden well inside him. 

“Let’s try this,” Jaehyun says. “You can keep everything from before to yourself, but from now on, no more secrets. And in exchange, I’ll tell you some, too.”

“You’re asking a lot of me.”

“I know.”

Doyoung sucks in a sharp breath, shutting his eyes for a moment, before he nods, small and subtle. “Deal.”

Jaehyun’s lips curl into a barely-noticeable victory smile. “Well, then I’d like to tell you—”

“Doyoung!”

The two turn towards the source of the voice and come eye to eye with a beaming woman. Her dark hair is let loose in soft curls falling over her collarbones, and she’s in a cherry-colored summer dress, her waist encircled in a gold chain belt with a ruby buckle, the flowing chiffon skirt tapering at her knees. Her lips are painted a deep rouge, caught in a contagious smile, her eyes alight with joy.

Doyoung stands from his stool, and Jaehyun follows along, though uncertain.

“How _ absolutely grand _ it is for us to meet here of all places!” When she reaches the two, she opens her arms, pulling Doyoung in for a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jaehyun doesn’t doubt it leaves a hint of red on Doyoung’s skin. “Tell me, darling, how has your circus been?”

“It’s been going well, Joy.” Doyoung smiles back softly. “I’d hope to say the same for you?”

“Things have been lovely on my end. Seulgi and I have a ticket for a trip across the country next month. We’ll be visiting all the famous landmarks, aren’t we darling?” Joy tosses her hair over her shoulders when she looks back at the three others presiding in the far side of the bar, under a glass lamp casting a dim light over a square table. They glance up from the cards in their hands when they notice Joy beckoning them over.

Joy flashes another sly smile at Doyoung. “Who have you got here with you today, Doyoungie?”

Doyoung pauses for a moment, a breath held between all of them. Then, he simply says, “Joy, this is Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is Joy.” He doesn’t bother describing who exactly each of them is.

Joy moves past Doyoung and takes Jaehyun’s hand in a firm shake. “A pleasure.”

The other three arrive and introduce themselves. The woman, Seulgi, in a merlot suit cut to accentuate the curve of her body where the waistline dips and the hem of the jacket right above her hips flares, holds a much colder expression compared to the constant tick of mischief on Joy’s face. The other two men, Kyungsoo and Yixing, stay out of Joy’s way as she continues her extravagant speech to Doyoung about her last trip overseas with a woman named Wendy the previous year. 

Jaehyun, lost in the conversation, looks down to play with his cufflinks, until Yixing and Seulgi approach him.

“It’s interesting that you’re a human. I didn’t think Doyoung would push the rules that far,” Yixing says, leaning his body against the bar, elbow resting on the surface. He then lifts a hand, drawing the cuff of his jacket down, revealing an expensive watch on his wrist. Then, as he wriggles his fingers, the arm ripples in and out of existence. “Intangibility.” He has a smirk on his face.

Before Jaehyun can even comment, Yixing throws the fist at Jaehyun’s stomach, and the breath gets knocked out of him for a moment as the force runs through his body. Thankfully, he’s got ahold of a stool, and Kyungsoo next to him grabs onto his arm. It’s not a hard enough hit to leave a bruise, but it’s unexpected, sending the alcohol in his stomach rolling.

Yixing blinks at his hand, and it appears again. He wills it in and out a few more times, and finally makes a simple, _ huh_, sound to himself until Seulgi slaps his arm down. 

“You absolute dimwit, how many times must I tell you not to try that?” Seulgi reprimands. “Jaehyun, are you alright?”

Jaehyun grunts, but manages to unfold himself, and nods towards her as a meager answer.

Then, Joy’s voice cuts through, loud and full of intent. “Oh, Doyoung, we have so much to catch up on.” Joy links her arm with Doyoung’s, pulling him away from the bar. “I purchased these Colombian cigars I haven’t had the chance to try yet.” Her voice trails off as she drags him off to the cigar lounge on the opposite side of the bar. The bartender simply slides the glass of half-finished whiskey into the sink, and wipes the table down with a towel, as if Doyoung were never there.

“I’m sorry on Yixing’s behalf. And Joy is quite extravagant in her conduct,” Seulgi says. She shakes her head fondly, before beckoning Jaehyun to follow them to their seats. “Come, join us. Finish playing her cards.”

Jaehyun hates the deck he receives and forgives Joy for forcing her way out of the game. Her loss would be inevitable, and considering the massive stacks of chips they’ve piled in the middle of the table, Joy likely wouldn’t enjoy having to pay up the large sum.

“We haven’t heard from Doyoung in quite a while. We didn’t check up on each other like we promised,” Seulgi says as she throws down a play of cards. “Flush.”

Jaehyun studies the cards in hand, eyebrows knitting together. Nothing fits together in a set that would work. “I thought the circus was more of a secret.”

Yixing plays next with a snicker on his face. “We’re the ones who funded him to start it. He wouldn’t have this fame without us.”

“Don’t be so arrogant, you hadn’t even fully joined us when Doyoung started the circus,” Kyungsoo says, quiet but full of attitude. 

Jaehyun purses his lips to keep himself from laughing. They each play again, following their turns in the circle.

“So you knew him. Before,” Jaehyun says.

“He grew up a lot, didn’t he?” Yixing remarks. He places down his play next, causing Seulgi to scowl. “He was so scrawny when we first met him.”

Jaehyun feels the shake of the table when Seulgi kicks Yixing’s shin.

“Doyoung was very reserved when we found him. He had been wandering the streets alone with practically nothing for who knows how long. He refused to tell us.” Kyungsoo throws his cards down next. “Half-starved and half-frozen in the middle of a pile of snow in some alleyway, left for the dead. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen.”

Of course, Jaehyun should have guessed that Doyoung’s childhood was just as painful, enough to rival the rest of the circus. He grew up with magic after all. And no one would bother helping a poor boy on the streets. There’s not enough good in the world for that.

“Do you know what his power is, anyways?” Jaehyun tries, setting down his own play. His bold nature that had faded into the background the last couple of weeks is now chiseled back out by the alcohol, and it begs for Jaehyun to ask all the questions that have been plaguing his mind.

The red of Seulgi’s lips is caught between her teeth as she contemplates her cards. “No, we don’t. We can guess, but there’s nothing specific. We’ve tried to trace his bloodline. There’s nothing.”

“Magic types should generally be reflected within families, and usually fall in the same category. Some old families marry into each other over time and that’s when it all scatters.” Kyungsoo picks up his cocktail sitting on the edge of the table and drinks it slowly. “But he knows nothing of his heritage. There’s no link, anywhere.”

It’s rather impressive, just a little bit, that Doyoung has managed to isolate him so far as to have absolutely no discoverable connections. He plays his cards to hide himself, and he does it well.

“Well, I think he likes to bluff. We don’t know what he can do, but it must be pretty insignificant if he doesn’t flaunt it,” Yixing says, loud and unprocessed, and he carelessly tosses down another set of cards in the middle. “A phony, for all we know.”

“You don’t have the right to talk about him in that way.” Jaehyun can feel the tension in his body, and he leans back into his chair in an attempt to release it. “You don’t know him.”

“Don’t you think that’s a problem we all have with him?” Yixing’s smile is cold, set as a sneer. “Don’t you find it odd that you know nothing of him?”

“Stop, Yixing,” Seulgi says, laying a hand on his shoulder, her grip on it tightening so that her nails dig into his shoulders. 

He ignores it, but throws down his final cards, revealing his win. “Think about it, Jaehyun. Take a moment, and let that sink in.” He collects his winnings, sweeping the chips towards himself.

Jaehyun doesn’t want to let it sink in.

His thoughts are interrupted when he then feels the presence of another body behind him, the weight of their hands on the back of his chair, knuckles accidentally brushing his shoulders, and he can easily smell the sugary flower perfume mixed with a whiff of old smoke. The person leans down beside him, lips close to ear.

“Thanks for being a dear and playing my cards.” Joy says quietly. She glances at the cards still in hand. “It wasn’t a great deal to begin with. Come, let’s dance.”

Jaehyun turns slightly to meet Joy’s gaze. “I would rather not…”

Joy’s rouge lips curve into a pout. “There’s hardly any live performances around here these days. And Doyoung would hate for me to drag him off again. Plus, I’d like to talk to you.”

With a sigh, Jaehyun lifts himself from the seat and lets Joy grab him by the wrists, pulling him towards the open area in front of the dais set with a microphone and stool already. A lady with a short curled bob perches on the stool, straightening out her skirt, before grabbing the microphone. The background music resounds from the speakers behind her, and she begins to sing, low and smooth, and Jaehyun recognizes it as some jazz melody that can’t quite recall the name of, but her sultry voice plays nicely against the brass instruments, shaping her singing.

“She has one of the loveliest live vocals I’ve heard in a while,” Joy says, and she repositions her hand on Jaehyun’s so she can swing herself across, slowly, so Jaehyun can keep up. “I absolutely adore shows like this.”

“You’ve watched the circus perform then, I assume.”

“Yes, several times.”

She says it with such nonchalance that Jaehyun nearly doesn’t catch it. And he remembers, that other man he had bumped into said something similar. But maybe it’s a trick of his mind and his memory is serving him wrong. He hardly remembers bumping into anyone during intermission.

“Doyoung is as dense as a rock, most days,” Joy continues, her steps slow as they turn. She leaves a hand on his shoulder, and Jaehyun can smell the faint scent of cigar smoke from her breath, nothing unpleasant, just sharp, catching him off guard. “He can love something so much but still maintain such an emotionless state. It’s a feat, really. I could hardly contain myself that much.”

They’ve spun around enough so that Jaehyun’s back is to the table where Doyoung and the rest of them sit. He notices the affectionate expression on Joy’s face as she says that, peering over Jaehyun’s shoulder.

“But I must ask. Do you have feelings towards him, by any chance?”

Jaehyun nearly guffaws, and Joy hides it by twirling herself under Jaehyun’s arm, letting him have a moment to conduct himself. He’s sure he hears her laugh lightly.

“Why are you so surprised?” she asks, amused, the rose color of her lips still poking fun at Jaehyun like it had a mind of its own.

“It’s only been a couple weeks, I don’t think—”

“Oh, don’t act that way. You aren’t being subtle.”

“We hardly know each other.”

Joy pauses, and they sway side to side with the slow beats of the song. “Aren’t you a reporter?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then put that to good use!” Joy pats Jaehyun’s chest, where the lapels of his jacket would be. “Make the effort that he can’t.”

The song picks up its rhythm, and Joy squeals, spinning herself around and into Jaehyun’s arms for a dip. He can hardly retain his dancing experience with his sister when she had insisted they partner for her to practice, but some of that muscle memory comes back to him.

“It’s been fun knowing you, truly,” Joy says, quietly but earnestly. “Doyoung hardly opens up anymore.”

Jaehyun sighs. “I don’t understand him.”

“It’s alright. Keep doing what you’re doing. It’s a shame you must leave so soon.” Joy twists them around so Jaehyun can see Doyoung’s face, his eyebrows knitted as he glances at the watch on his wrist. Joy giggles. “He’s getting a little impatient with me again.”

The song comes to a slow end, the singer’s voice trailing off in a low note. Joy draws away from Jaehyun, holding him at arm’s length. “I hope to see you again. Perhaps after my travels. Or even during, if we happen to cross paths by some miracle.”

“Jaehyun, we have to get going.”

Jaehyun turns, and Doyoung is already exiting the lounge, his suit jacket hanging off his fingers, over his back. He barely turns to check if Jaehyun is following.

“I wish you luck.” Joy pecks him on the cheek, bidding him farewell. 

Jaehyun grabs his jacket from the barstool and hurries to catch up with Doyoung as they take the stairs two by two, up and into reality.

The antique shop is hidden, despite being on the busiest street in downtown. Squished between a large grocery store and a popular sweets shop, the word _ Timeless _ in loopy, gold lettering, displayed above two standard display windows framed by red brick walls, could be easily missed at a quick glance. It’s like the middle child, the one you don’t notice is there unless you make an effort to look for them or already knew they existed. Taking a closer look, Jaehyun notices that there are no store hours listed on the windows. Instead, right next to the dark wooden door, in small, white block letters, are the words “Open at your convenience” painted onto the brick. 

Jaehyun puts a hand on the dull golden doorknob and tries to turn it, only to be met with the jingle of a lock. “Seems like they’re closed.”

Doyoung just pushes past him, easily twisting the knob with an audible _ click_.

“After you,” Doyoung gestures with a cheeky grin, holding the door open for him.

Jaehyun huffs and enters the shop, marveling at how much bigger it is inside than it looks from the outside. The twisting paths frame off little sections of toys, dinnerware, and furniture that Jaehyun glances at with little interest. It’s really just a jumbled mess: there’s a tea set, minus the teapot’s cover, sitting atop a weathered rocking chair, a yellowing white teddy bear wearing a locket sliding off the broken shelf of a bookcase, and an opened black lace parasol hanging by its handle from a crystal chandelier.

He feels the warmth of a hand grabbing ahold of his wrist.

“Come on, we should make this quick. We need to get back by dinner,” Doyoung says, tugging lightly on Jaehyun to make sure he follows. And if Doyoung lets his hand slide down to capture Jaehyun’s palm, Jaehyun doesn’t comment on it.

The shopkeeper must have heard their footsteps because he hears someone call out, “Welcome to Timeless! Take your time, look around to see what catches your fancy. If you need anything, just holler.”

As they round the corner, Jaehyun sees a dark-haired young man sitting behind a U-shaped glass display case, chin resting on his hand in boredom. In his other hand, he twirls a large bronze key around his index finger by a loop of ribbon attached to the head of the key.

“Thanks, Xiaojun, but it’s just me,” Doyoung greets.

The shopkeeper, Xiaojun, perks up at Doyoung’s voice. “Doyoung! What a pleasure to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, Xiaojun.”

“And who’s this?” Xiaojun turns to Jaehyun inquisitively, then glances at their linked hands. “One of those sponsors you told me about?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Heavens, no,” Doyoung says quickly, dropping Jaehyun’s hand like it’s fire. “I visited Kyungsoo and the others earlier already. This is Jaehyun. He’s staying with the circus for the time being.”

“A human though, Doyoung? Isn’t one enough already?” Xiaojun turns to Jaehyun, looking a bit apprehensive. “You must have had quite the story to have ended up with Doyoung. Something like Taeil, perhaps?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s complicated, but you can trust him,” Doyoung says.

Xiaojun places the key he’s spinning down with a quiet _ thud _ and extends a hand. “Well, any friend of Doyoung’s is a friend of mine. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jaehyun.”

“Likewise,” Jaehyun replies, shaking his hand.

Xiaojun holds on for a second too long and cocks his head to the side, staring at the grip he has on Jaehyun in confusion. Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.

“What?” he asks, unable to stand the discomfort anymore.

“You’re sure you’re human?”

“I believe so,” Jaehyun replies, though he’s not sure how much truth is behind it. There’s still too much he doesn’t understand about what Sicheng told him for him to be sure of anything at this point.

Xiaojun peers at him more closely, almost glaring. “Interesting.”

“If you’re done examining him, Xiaojun, do you have my package?” Doyoung interrupts, breaking whatever odd moment that passed between Jaehyun and Xiaojun.

Xiaojun blinks at Doyoung a few times before recognition hits him, as if he forgot Doyoung was even there. “Right. I think Key brought it in earlier today. I’ll go check with Hendery—” he suddenly cuts off, looking at his watch. “Actually, hold on a second.” He points a finger at Jaehyun and warns, “Don’t move.”

Jaehyun follows his order, staying perfectly still, only the sound of their breathing filling the air.

“Five, four,” Xiaojun counts down with each tick of the hand on his watch. He looks past Jaehyun and Doyoung at the rest of the shop, as if to make sure it is still intact. “Three, two, one.” 

Suddenly, all of the cuckoo clocks in the store go off at the hour mark, blaring like sirens in the tiny store. Jaehyun slowly pans his gaze up to look at the clocks and the little birds springing out of them. His eyes widen as a little yellow bird shifts into a bright red one, and as the wooden house-shaped clock it’s attached to becomes half the size it was before. Glancing down, he sees the glass display cases turn into a dark mahogany counter, and the plush carpet beneath his feet harden into wooden floors. After the fifteenth second, the noise comes to a stop and the world around him stops shifting. Jaehyun hears something crash somewhere in the distance, and sees Xiaojun wince.

“That was probably Hendery. I should go check on him. Sit tight, I’ll be back in a second,” Xiaojun says, then leaves through the door behind him to the back room.

Spinning around, Jaehyun sees that the entire store has changed. Instead of the random piles of miscellaneous items that were there before, there are organized shelves climbing towards the ceiling, lined with little trinkets and toys.

Out of nowhere, a boy, looking far younger in age, pops up in front of Jaehyun with a loud noise like the snap of a whip against a horse's shank, making him jump in surprise.

“Hello, welcome to Timeless, store number eight! Previously we were at store number five, so if you were looking at anything there, I can teleport you back!” he says, much too cheerily. He finishes off the spiel with a bright smile. “Don’t worry, we’re still in the same place, physically. It’s just a different store with different things. The more variety, the better, is what we say!”

“No, we don’t say that!” A voice says from the back room, but it’s not Xiaojun’s.

“Hush, Hendery.” Yangyang says without even a hint of remorse.

“Thanks, Yangyang, but I’m just here to pick up a package,” Doyoung tells him. “Jaehyun, were you looking at anything?” Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Well, you can take a look around here then. Our stores switch every hour, so if you’re planning on staying longer, the next shift will bring store number two to us,” Yangyang says, and it’s as if he draws from a well of endless energy with how much enthusiasm he has in each word.

The back door opens behind Jaehyun, and he turns around to see Xiaojun step out, package in hand. “Are you scaring away our customers again, Yangyang?”

“Just a little,” Yangyang replies with a big grin.

Xiaojun sighs. “You’re lucky it’s just Doyoung. I swear, you’re going to give old Grandpa Lee a heart attack one day.”

“Mr. Lee loves me, though.”

“Right. You should go help Hendery clean up in the back before he breaks something again.”

Yangyang does as he’s told and leaves, but not before sticking his tongue out at Xiaojun playfully. Xiaojun makes a face back at him, then turns back to the counter.

“Here’s your package, Doyoung,” Xiaojun says, putting the brown parcel down on the counter and sliding it across to him.

“Thanks, Xiaojun,” Doyoung says, handing over a handful of bills. “You know, my offer still stands. You’re welcome to join at any time.”

“Well, we haven’t had too much trouble recently. It’s been eerily quiet, if I think about it. Makes me wonder _ when _exactly there’s going to be another officer trying to break down our door.” Xiaojun falls back into a relaxed position, chin on his hand. “That door is antique. I’d hate to have to replace it.”

Doyoung purses his lips. “I had hoped they’d stop the raids after we all went under the radar.”

“I suppose that’s not the case. Thanks for the offer though anyways, Doyoung. It’s nice to know that we have a place to go if things get rough, but we’re safe for now.” Xiaojun looks around at his store fondly. “Plus, I think it’d be hard for me to leave this place. All twelve stores.”

Doyoung takes the package and tucks it under his arm. “Of course. You know how to contact me, if you ever need anything.”

Xiaojun nods. “Goodbye, Doyoung. It was nice meeting you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun raises a hand in farewell and follows Doyoung out the door and back onto the streets of the city.

They get back to the circus just as the sun is about to slip away, just on schedule. It’s unfortunate that they didn’t get to explore the city to its fullest, but Doyoung promises Jaehyun on the way back that the next time around, they’ll have more time and freedom.

But they’re barely back to the camp when Jaehyun notices the two figures clambering towards them.

Jeno’s walking behind him in quick procession, barely keeping up, and huffing out quickly, “Mark, slow down. What in _ God’s name _ is wrong with you?”

“Nothing to do with you. Leave. _ Now._”

“What _ is _ that?”

“It doesn’t pertain to you, Jeno, what more do you want me to say?” Mark’s voice is hardly raised, but they can hear it, even from afar.

Jeno stops and lets Mark continue stalking forward, but not before calling out, “This is something you’ll regret. We warned you.”

Mark barely spares Jeno a glance before storming across the grass until he’s face to face with Jaehyun and Doyoung, who stop abruptly, meeting the furious boy in front of them.

“Read it.”

Mark thrusts out a leather notebook, its leather strap buckle unclasped, letting some of the stray, falling pages slip out slightly, and Jaehyun notices his engraved initials on the spine of the notebook.

Jaehyun bristles. “How did you find that—”

Doyoung takes the notebook hesitantly, but doesn’t open it.

“Doesn’t matter how I found it.” Mark’s finger twitches by his side. “What matters is its contents.”

Jaehyun swallows the lump in his throat, and feels an untamed anger rise in his chest and take its place next to his heart, in position to be cocked and aimed. “That is private property, you have no right-”

“_He’s a goddamn liar._” Mark points an accusing finger at Jaehyun, and it shakes, it wavers.

Doyoung turns the notebooks between his hands, its front on one palm, and then he transfers it to the other, laying it on its back. He doesn’t have the heart to open it without permission, Jaehyun realizes. And he hesitates when he asks, “Jaehyun, what is this?”

“I—”

Mark interrupts, “Read it and find out, Doyoung.”

Jaehyun bites at the inside of his cheek to alleviate his own anger building inside him. He burns, with fire, with disappointment, with fear. He was wrong, he knows now, because he’s a different person today than he was before. 

Doyoung gives him a cautious gaze, still unsure whether he should open the book or not. He holds it in both hands, a thumb pressing on the buckle strap to the cover, as if that would keep him from ever reading it.

It takes all of Jaehyun to force the words out of his mouth. “Fine. Do it. No more secrets.”

He thinks that there’s an equal amount of fear reflecting Doyoung’s eyes, but maybe that’s in his imagination. Doyoung isn’t scared. He can’t, he can’t possibly be scared of Jaehyun and his stupid notebook with its early morning scribbles and comments that mean nothing to him now.

Doyoung gently peels the notebook open, slowly, as if waiting for Jaehyun to stop him. 

Jaehyun doesn’t. Doyoung deserves to know, even if it wasn’t brought up in his own time like he had hoped. Or rather, he had hoped no one would ever find out, because it simply doesn’t tell the correct story anymore.

The two of them watch Doyoung’s eyes scan over the ink letters, awaiting the verdict. Jaehyun thinks he’s been holding his breath the entire time, looking for any minuscule reaction on Doyoung’s face that could prepare him for his final outburst.

There was a tick in his brow, and Jaehyun _ knows_.

“Everything we’ve done for you, and I had asked one thing of you.” Doyoung slams the notebook together, its delicate pages crinkle as it does, which makes Jaehyun flinch. And he knows.

Doyoung doesn’t look angry, or as angry as he could be. Instead, there’s a desperation in his voice, and disappointment everywhere else. “All I asked of you was not to document this, not to have solid, paper evidence.”

He sounds broken, and everything about him droops, and the air is sour, tense.

Jaehyun doesn’t have it in him to argue and defend his pride and reasons. This is what he deserves, and he’ll take it. So he quietly forces out, “I’m sorry.” He’s sincere, and those might be the only words Doyoung will genuinely believe. Nothing else will matter. 

Jaehyun casts his head down, shame rolling into him like a wave, and he wishes he could drown in it. Then, pale hands push the leather notebook into him, the buckle strapped back neatly.

He looks back up for a moment, and Doyoung’s lips are pursed in a thin line, his jaw tense. “And I wish,” he whispers quietly, so close to Jaehyun, face to face, mere inches apart from each other. “I wish you had defended yourself. You are a coward, Jung Jaehyun.”

Doyoung lets go, and Jaehyun barely holds onto the notebook. Doyoung brushes past his shoulder, and heads for the train head, casting the rest of them in silence. It feels like the whole circus had quieted for the confrontation, because he can only hear the rush of wind sending yellow-red leaves floating in circles along the dust-ridden ground.

He looks towards Mark, and his eyes are wide, no longer angry. But before Jaehyun can quite figure it out, Mark spins on his heel and runs across the field, back into the maze of tents.

Jaehyun doesn’t move. He brushes his hand over his notebook, his fingers tracing the scratches and grooves of his initials, over the cold buckle. He tucks the misaligned pages back in the best he can.

One step forward, and two steps backward. Everything has changed, and Jaehyun had let it without even lifting a finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it!  
Sorry it’s been a while, but we’re back and at it.
> 
> P.S. imagine old Grandpa Lee as anyone you’d like but I personally like to imagine him as Sooman Lee -ohcanadaman
> 
> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
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	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You think that eventually, you’ll head home, and this circus stunt would all just be some fever dream. You wrote it down to remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhhhhh we're halfway thereeeee 
> 
> Working title: well FUCK. Happy new years?

It’s the feeling of deep regret that Jaehyun pours himself over the next couple of days as he shifts through the thin pages of his notebook, counting each word that has betrayed him. Usually, he would pride himself in how detailed each piece of description is, how everything he’s discovered slides into place to make a perfectly coherent story. For most of his stories, he would spend hours trying to fill in the blank spaces that just couldn’t be accessed, to connect two points that had no relation. This story, though, is fully comprehensive in a way most stories aren’t. 

But that’s the problem, ultimately. This story is too real and too close to heart. 

Maybe it is his fault. He could have, should have heeded Doyoung’s words before and stopped writing as he had promised. Then, there wouldn’t be such a divide as there is now falling upon the circus. The air is still and impenetrable, a fog that doesn’t clear away.

Jaehyun knows Doyoung is avoiding him like the plague. The night of the incident, Doyoung had taken his dinner in his office rather than in the tent, which extended for the three following nights. He practically locks himself in there under the pretense of _ completing paperwork_. Taeyong had scowled at that when Jungwoo reported what he said, word for word. 

They don’t know about what happened yet, which fills Jaehyun with mild relief. But Taeyong is perceptive, and upon hearing Doyoung’s disinterest in meeting others, his eyes moved to find Jaehyun first.

And Jaehyun avoided Taeyong’s piercing gaze immediately, because he knows he’s transparent compared to Taeyong. He never approaches Jaehyun about it, either. Another momentary relief.

Some circus members had sent him odd, confused looks, and there had been more than enough death glares from Ten, but nothing more, nothing less. 

The only other time Jaehyun spots Doyoung in those passing days had been for a quick warm-up rehearsal, and Doyoung had spent every possible minute looking anywhere but in Jaehyun’s direction.

The tension made Jeno miscalculate a knife throw and nearly stab Jaemin in the arm. Jaehyun quickly exited and retreated to his sleeping quarters, in case anyone else hurt themselves whilst distracted by the hostile energy flowing generously within the tent.

Still, no one questions it.

Luckily, nobody bothers him now, even as he drags himself to the carousel every morning, hops onto the platform, and locates a different horse to sit on each time. He doesn’t bother turning the carousel on, either, and simply sits there on the basswood horse, twirling a pen around his thumb again and again. Every time he drops it, he moves his legs, propped upon the head of the horse behind his, and reaches down the grab it. Then, he kicks his legs back up, and returns to flipping the pen.

He feels pathetic.

That day, particularly, he picks his way through the notebook, pen between his teeth, his index finger following each and every word carefully, taking his time to process its meaning alone, and with the context of the sentence. He edits through what he’s written, the paragraphs molded by jagged handwriting scrawled under a half-lit candle in the middle of the night by a sleepless brain.

He scowls whenever he comes across a less-than-adequate description that doesn’t completely cover how marvelous and awe-striking the circus is. He scratches the paragraphs out, but doesn’t try to rewrite them. 

The solitary sounds of his pen against paper is interrupted by the pattering of feet, the sound of the overgrown grass crunching in on itself as it’s trampled to the ground.

Haechan comes hurtling up the platform, his foot nearly catching on the edge as he jumps on, and he grabs onto the pole of the nearest horse to steady himself. When he notices Jaehyun had stopped his incessant scrawling, he smiles sheepishly, a little embarrassed of his fall.

“Jaehyun! I’ve been looking for you.” Haechan crosses the platform to sit backwards on the horse Jaehyun has his legs propped on. He drapes a leg on each side of the horse, kicking his feet back and forth. “You’ve been off, lately.”

“It’s nothing.” Jaehyun drops his gaze back to his notebook. With its scribbles, the page looks more like an unfortunate ink splatter accident than excruciating editing.

“I know it has something to do with Mark. And Doyoung. Or perhaps Doyoung just does that whole _ lock himself away thing _ pretty often.” Haechan’s mouth twists into a frown. “But I know something is wrong with Mark. He won’t tell me, so you have to.”

“Nothing happened,” Jaehyun reiterates, this time with a glare that is far less menacing than he attempted. “Nothing happened.”

The second time is a reassurance for himself that doesn’t work.

“Jaehyun, don’t bother lying.” Haechan pastes on a cheeky grin. “C’mon. I know something happened.”

“Why can’t you try asking Mark again?” Jaehyun chews on the cap of his pen as he flips to the next page, another couple of paragraphs for him to draw across. “I’m sure it’ll be easier to convince him.”

Haechan leans back against the pole of his horse, lacing his fingers across his stomach. Then he says quietly, “He’s not that easy to crack. He knows me better than anyone else here, and he can tell when I’m trying to pry into his business. He won’t give in this time. Says it’s not my fight, nonsense like that.”

“And you’ll just let him push you away like that?”

Haechan’s bubbly energy dies down as he nods, a little solemnly.

“Okay.” Jaehyun doesn’t elaborate as he returns his focus to his notebook, as if that actually needed any focus at all. It’s just mindlessly dragging his pen tip wherever his hand leads.

“So you aren’t going to tell me, either?” If Mark’s standoffish attitude is bothering him, Haechan doesn’t show it, puffing his cheeks out in annoyance at Jaehyun’s silence. “Men are useless.”

Maybe it would do Jaehyun some good to talk about it. When he had trouble back at home, his parents always sat him down at the dinner table and wouldn’t let him leave until he came to terms with himself and his mistakes. And when he didn’t want the judgmental stares his parents tried so hard to hide, he went to his sister, and they would sit together, side by side on the bench outside their house, and discuss their troubles in low voices. 

But he can’t, now, not to Haechan, because it would just prove how unloyal he is, and he couldn’t dare stand the rest of the circus sending him distasteful looks for the rest of his time here. One misled decision made what feels like decades ago has come back to bite him. Stubbornness has never been a good look on him.

A moment of quiet filled with Haechan’s silent pouting passes, before he whines, “Please, Jaehyun? I just want to know. And I can help, both of you!”

“You’re taking this way too lightly. It’s not some silly quarrel like the one I had with Ten.” Jaehyun sighs, slamming his notebook shut. He’d have to relent to Haechan, eventually, because the boy is far more headstrong than he is. “If you promise not to go around blabbering to everyone, then I’ll give you a hint.”

“A hint? Seriously?” Haechan gapes at Jaehyun. “You are way too stingy. I can just go ask someone else, if you really want me to.”

“No one else knows what’s going on.” Jaehyun tries to state so with confidence, but maybe Mark had let something slip to someone else. Maybe Doyoung has confided in Taeyong and Ten this morning. There’s no way of him knowing whether his little secret has been spilled or not.

But Haechan falls victim to the feigned confidence and scrunches his nose. “You bastard.”

“Watch your language, you’re practically still a child.” Jaehyun manages to crack a smile, a genuine one.

“Oh, hush, I get enough of that from Taeyong already.” Haechan crosses his arms over his chest instead and shifts his posture so he’s in a more comfortable position, leaning against his horse. It’s frozen at its falling point, so he has to look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul what you tell me here today. It’ll remain on this platform and never leave.”

Still, Jaehyun doesn’t comply. “Why do you want to know, anyways? How’s that going to help Mark?”

“By the sound of it, _ you’re _ the one that needs help, not Mark. My life doesn’t revolve around him, you know.”

Jaehyun nearly scoffs at that.

“It’s true! Anyways, Doyoung must have had something to do with it, too. I don’t want him to close himself off again, especially from you.”

“You’re awfully invested in this, aren’t you?”

Haechan nods enthusiastically, pushing his body forward and bracing his weight against his arms, now pressing on the horse’s back. His legs swing back and forth as he watches Jaehyun unfurl.

“Fine. But you’re hearing my side of the story.”

So he describes Mark storming up to them the night they returned from the city, Jaehyun’s notebook in hand. How Doyoung hid his rage and betrayal reading through it, the way he drops the book in Jaehyun’s hand and leaves him in the dust. The utter look of disappointment flashing across his eyes when he had hoped Jaehyun would explain himself, waiting for an answer that would allow him to forgive. But it never came, and now Jaehyun wallows by himself in his miserable state.

Haechan listens with rapt attention, and when Jaehyun finishes, he nods, slowly, processing. “I take your side, Jaehyun. Mark had no right to look through your things like that.”

“You believe me?”

“Of course I do.”

“But Mark—”

“Trust me when I say this. He never likes it whenever another joins the circus. He absolutely despised me when I came. And if I’m honest, he just doesn’t like that you’re getting so close to Doyoung, of all people.” Haechan’s smile is filled with mirth, as if recalling some inside joke that he refuses to tell Jaehyun. “He gets jealous very easily.”

“And even though I love him,” Haechan continues, “He was wrong, it’s clear as day.”

That’s all the reassurance he has been looking for in the past few days, that he isn’t the one to blame completely. He lets out a chuckle of relief.

But then, Haechan asks, “Why’d you write it then? All of this?”

“It wasn’t ever meant to be found.” The words sound ridiculous as they exit his mouth. 

“Then what was its purpose? If it was just meant for your own eyes, then you’re not a reporter.” Even though he’s young and still has the bright light in him that hasn’t been dampened, Haechan is filled with a curiosity borderlining wisdom. He takes a moment to analyze Jaehyun, which makes him squirm. “I know why.”

Even Jaehyun doesn’t know why, exactly.

“You think this is temporary. You think that eventually, you’ll head home, and this circus stunt would all just be some fever dream. You wrote it down to remember.”

The truth hurts, even if he knows immediately that’s not the full truth, and that it extends deeper than that, a place he can’t reach to understand. Nonetheless, it’s a punch to the gut that’ll leave a bruise for him to ponder over every time he sees it.

“I know this won’t help too much,” Haechan starts, swinging his leg over to one side of his horse so he can slide off. “I think you should go talk to Mark. At least do something about what you have the power to change.”

“I shouldn’t.” Jaehyun’s grip tightens around his notebook.

“Don’t be afraid of him, he’s harmless!” It’s as if Haechan had just flipped a switch, right back to his mischievous self immediately, without relapse. “I promise, I’ll be right by your side. I’ll make sure he doesn’t kill you.”

“But—”

“Nope, we’re going.” Haechan grabs onto Jaehyun’s wrist and pulls him off his horse, so quickly that his legs barely catch him when he slips off.

Haechan tugs him to the opposite side of the circus, where a ring of high fences is set up, the inside lined with a semi-circle of golden platforms varying in height. Atop each platform, a full-grown tiger sits, attention trained on Mark, who’s in the center of the ring. 

Jaehyun didn’t think they made enough noise for Mark to notice their arrival, but maybe he has some kind of sixth sense for Haechan’s presence, because he snaps his head around just as they approach the fence.

The air turns sour, and one of the tigers, the largest one, hops off the tallest platform and pads towards Mark. It bears its teeth, a low growl rumbling from its throat.

Without glancing down at the tiger, Mark places a steady hand on its head, his fingers disappearing in its fur. “Down, Virginia.”

Her beady eyes continue to glare at Jaehyun, and it’s eerily human-like, and it leaves an unsettling feeling in his stomach. Mark runs his hand down Virginia’s neck, placating her. Eventually, she looks away and tucks her head under Mark’s arm.

“Well, looks like the two of you are here. Together.” Haechan gives Jaehyun a light shove forward. “I hope you talk it out. Bye!”

“You said you would—”

“Ah, look at the time, I need to practice too!”

Mark looks quizzically at Haechan’s retreating figure, and says quietly to himself, “But he never practices…”

Jaehyun presses his lips together in a thin line and backs away from the caging, just in case any of the tigers were feeling particularly hungry that afternoon. He should say something, really, but Mark points at the empty platform and says something to the tiger in front of him, and Jaehyun’s opportunity is gone.

He watches Mark practice, calling for the tigers to hop off of their platforms. They sit back on their hind legs, waiting for the next instruction. 

Jaehyun’s not sure how long passes before he finally decides to get Mark’s attention.

“Haechan said I should discuss this with you—”

Blatantly ignoring Jaehyun’s attempt, Mark unwraps the whip tied to his belt, and it unrolls with a violent snap. The tigers aren’t afraid. They know Mark would never actually use the whip on them, and that it’s just for show. The sound is just a signal for them to begin running around Mark in the middle.

Still, Jaehyun tries his best not to cower. They could probably sense his fear, anyways.

“Let me explain, Mark. It’s more complicated than it looks.”

The tigers swap places in their circle, leaping across in a practiced manner, a looping pattern that looks like an optical illusion. Mark snaps his whip again overhead, loud enough that Jaehyun’s words get lost in the wind.

Nonetheless, Jaehyun continues talking, in hopes that Mark will take a moment to listen, even for just a short period. He closes the distance between him and the cage, his toes hitting the edge of the metal. His heart is pounding out of his chest as he feels the rush of air whipping past him as the tigers sprint around and around.

“I understand why you hated me at first, Mark. I was an outsider, a human. I was a reporter that managed to get wrapped up in all this trouble, and you were forced to take me in. I know you don’t trust me, still.” Jaehyun closes his palms around the cold bars of the cage, and searches to catch Mark’s eyes. “But can you at least, give me a chance to express my side?”

Mark avoids Jaehyun’s gaze, even as the tigers slow to a trot, snaking around Mark to line up behind their designated platforms again. “Give me a reason, then, traitor.”

Jaehyun sucks in a breath of courage first. “I swear, on everything I am, that that notebook isn’t what you think it is. It began as a selfish way for me to at least get _ something _ out of being with the circus for an unknown period of time. There was never a direct intent. Maybe I would have published it once I left, maybe I would have kept it to myself to reflect on it, I don’t know.”

The tigers begin to growl again, their paws perched on the platform, a perfect kickstart to come launching at Jaehyun. He can tell Mark’s emotions are influencing the animals, even though his back is turned, his shoulders falling heavily at every breath from anger.

“But that was all before I began to understand the circus, and what it does. I understand how important it is, for you all to be safe and together. And I could never, ever try to upset that balance. I promise, it means nothing to me now.”

That’s enough for Mark’s grip around his whip to loosen, the tension to wash out of his body, slightly. His arm falls to his side. “Then why do you still have it?”

Jaehyun swallows his uncertainty. “I’m not sure. Reminds me of home, I guess.” He refuses to think more about Haechan’s revelation.

Mark sighs. “Fine. Tell me why you deserve my forgiveness.” He winds his whip back up and latches it back onto his belt. He then approaches Jaehyun and plops down, cross-legged in the cage. Jaehyun drops to sit down as well, as the tigers, much calmer now, walk over and lay around Mark.

Jaehyun tries his best to convey whatever conflicted emotions he had before, how it’s still changing as he understands the dynamic around him, how magic runs deep in blood, and the circus’s familial bond runs deeper. Even if he’s a reporter at heart, nothing could ever make Jaehyun give that notebook’s contents up to the public.

Though Mark is still disbelieving, he hums and nods along, stroking his arm across one of his tigers, one that’s a little smaller than Virginia, its fur a paler tone than the rest.

“I don’t think Doyoung will believe you if you try to explain to him,” Mark finally comments. “It’ll take a lot more than that to convince him.”

Jaehyun closes his eyes. He knew it could never be that easy between the two of them.

“But I know he’ll believe you, in the end.” Mark’s eyes are distant, looking down at the tiger in his lap.

“So, how was that? A good bonding experience, right?” Haechan’s voice is piercing, like he had yelled right into Jaehyun’s ear.

He scampers over, sliding to sit next to Jaehyun outside the cage. The tiger in Mark’s lap perks up and moves to lie in front of Haechan. He reaches through the bars to cup its head in his hands. “Hello, Carolina.”

Mark has a fond expression on his face as Haechan coos at the tiger.

“I think I can speak for us both when I say it wasn’t too pleasant,” Jaehyun ends up saying.

“But it achieved what you intended.” Mark stands, and the two of them outside the fence follows suit.

“For someone with empathy for a power, he’s not too empathetic with people,” Haechan says, nudging Jaehyun with his elbow, a smile back on his face when Mark frowns at him.

“Oh, hush.” Mark ignores Haechan trying to grab onto his wrist through the bars, turning to Jaehyun. “I’m sorry, for looking through your stuff. It was out of line. Just… Don’t do something like that again. We’re worrisome people.”

“Of course.”

Mark offers a lopsided smile, and takes a couple steps backward, away from the edge of the cage. He heads over to the side, clicking open the metal door, and it creaks as it opens.

Haechan pats Jaehyun on the back as if to congratulate him for being able to carry through a conversation without another fight. He then walks to the door, and slips inside, throwing his arms around Mark’s neck, sending the two stumbling. A mix of distinct laughter fills the air.

Jaehyun takes this as a signal to leave the two alone. He clutches onto his notebook, still, but it doesn’t hold as much weight as it did before.

Still, dinner is just as awkward as lunch had been, though Jaehyun’s grateful that he at least has some sort of normalcy back now that he’s made amends with Mark enough to sit with his cabinmates again. Haechan tries his best to keep things light, cracking jokes as normal, and the rest of the boys follow suit with their normal banter. Everyone ignores the elephant in the room: Doyoung’s absence.

“And you should have _ seen _ the look on Lucas’ face when—”

“I think I’ll retire early for the night. Excuse me,” Jaehyun quietly says, cutting off Chenle’s story. He gets up and leaves before he can hear the other boys say anything in return, keeping his eyes downcast as he walks quickly out of the tent.

Once he gets outside to the cool air, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Despite being back on civil terms with Mark, everything still felt too suffocating inside. Too many prying eyes from the others. It felt like he was in elementary school all over again, where he never quite fit in the way he wanted just because of his family’s financial state.

He starts heading back towards his car when he hears a loud _ clang _ and a distant “Fuck!” Jaehyun looks to his left and sees Doyoung struggling to put a small tent up, the poles and the fabric lying in a heap on the ground. Weighing his options, he decides he’d rather approach Doyoung now than in front of a group of people, in case they cause a spectacle. 

Either Doyoung doesn’t see him coming, or he doesn’t comment on it. Jaehyun stays silent as well as he picks up the fabric and tries to help untangle it, not quite ready to pop the fragile bubble. Lucky for him, Doyoung does first.

“What are you doing, Jung?” The way Doyoung is back to using his last name doesn’t go unnoticed, and Jaehyun internally winces.

“You looked like you needed help,” he responds.

Doyoung lets out a deep sigh. “Go to sleep, Jaehyun.”

_ He sounds tired, _ Jaehyun notes. “It’s fine. It’s still early, I can help—”

“I don’t need your help,” Doyoung states, cold, numb.

“Well, it would be easier if—”

“I said, I don’t need your help!”

Jaehyun’s head snaps up in surprise. Doyoung’s never raised his voice like that before, never shouted that loudly, even when he was annoyed at Haechan.

“I don’t need your help, Jaehyun. I don’t need _ you,_” Doyoung seethes, and though it's a bit quieter than before, it still rings, and Jaehyun feels as if the whole world could have heard. He takes a step back in shock, and though Doyoung isn’t looking at him, it seems he noticed, since he shifts his eyes ever-so-slightly.

_Of course,_ Jaehyun thinks. _There’s no need for me to be here. _He’s sure Doyoung’s put up thousands of tents on his own before, surely he can manage this one on his own as well. The circus functioned just fine before he arrived; it’s not like he’d make a difference here anyways, being non-magical. And then he realizes, if anything, he’s only created more problems. He started _as_ a problem.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, breaking him out of his running thoughts. Jaehyun’s eyes start to focus again, and when he looks at Doyoung, he sees a flash of concern, if only for a second, before his face turns back into a neutral, unreadable expression. Then, softer, “Go to sleep.”

“Right. Sorry,” his voice comes out in a choked whisper, almost too quiet to hear. He drops the fabric in his hand and walks past Doyoung and towards the train.

It’s not until he moves to open the car door that he realizes his hands are shaking. They don’t stop shaking as he tries to strike a match to light a candle, and after his fifth try, he gives up. He changes into his sleep clothes in the dark, and trips over the edge of his desk on the way to his makeshift bed. He stares at the ceiling in the darkness while laying in his bed, too tired and yet, too awake to fall asleep. The silence is suffocating. The wind doesn’t howl, the owls don’t hoot, the other boys aren’t in the car, quietly talking to each other before bed.

“Fuck.” Jaehyun covers his face with his palms. He laughs quietly to himself, but it ends up as a strangled sob. “Fuck,” he repeats.

For the first time in a long time, Jaehyun realizes that he is truly, utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years! Sorry our holiday presents have been kind of downers, but hey, we can only go up from here, as I hope we all will in 2020.
> 
> As you may have noticed, the total chapter number has been updated. We're halfway through with this story and we hope you all look forward to the second half as much as we do. Cheers everyone!
> 
> -ohcanadaman
> 
> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
[twitter (ohcanadaman)](https://twitter.com/ohcanadaman)  
[twitter (joint)](https://twitter.com/johncanadaman)  
[curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)  
[character profiles (the ringmaster carrd)](https://theringmaster.carrd.co/)  
[official spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6wR8vufsZ6CFCkLGaSrxQa?si=1Cr7CB-3QZS7-PnXjvWLqg)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It was nice seeing you again, Doyoung.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..... it's been a hot minute since the last update.  
-johnshuaa
> 
>   
Working Title: LIGHT IT UP UP UP LIGHT IT UP UP UP LIGHT IT UP UP UP

He places down the coins to pay for a ticket to the circus, sliding it across the booth’s counter with steady fingers. As he does, the boy in the booth looks at him, a little curious, a little astounded, but he doesn’t say anything besides his rehearsed lines of, “We hope you have a magical time with us today.” The boy moves on to the next customer, but not before sparing the stranger another wonder-filled glance.

Lucas nearly breaks down the booth as he sells the last tickets, ready to run out and tell Doyoung of his most recent discovery. He’s in charge of monitoring who enters the fairgrounds and reporting any possible dangers that he senses. And, in turn, he’s in charge of looking for magical energy within the circus-goers, and cautiously, but excitedly, note them down.

And the stranger that passed, oh, the amount of _ power _ that surrounded him, if Lucas had accidentally brushed his finger against his while taking the coins, he surely would have been too overwhelmed to move. But with such power comes great responsibility, and someone brewing with so much magical energy must know he has such. And if he knows, then he must have extreme control, because any stray spark could cause unimaginable destruction. He could be a threat, but he could also be a wonderful new member for the circus ensemble.

Lucas enters the dressing room through the back tent flap, hidden away between strategically placed crates and circus booths. He slides off his newsboy hat and vest in favor of his tailored suit jacket and a bowler cap, adorned with a golden brooch and extravagant purple feathers. He passes through the rest of the cast currently putting final touches on their makeup, and Kun scrambles through them, fixing the details nobody would have noticed, one by one. As Lucas crosses to the other side of the room, Kun grabs ahold of his shoulders and pats him down, unwrinkling the cloth as if it would stay smooth the moment he walks away. Even as Lucas tries to brush past him, still in search of Doyoung, Kun’s grip on him is tight, and Lucas has to pause, allowing Kun to properly gel his eyebrows and line his eyes in kohl.

Finally, he spots Doyoung in his red tailcoat, hat sitting on the table behind him. Taeyong flattens the black lapels of the jacket and takes his time in pinning a golden chain across his waist that holds the jacket sides together. Doyoung looks distracted, his eyes unfocused as he waits for Taeyong.

“Doyoung,” Lucas calls out. “There’s a magic user amongst the crowd tonight. A tall male, seems to be rather auspicious.”

Doyoung jolts, all of a sudden, causing Taeyong to miss the jacket’s cloth and prick his finger instead. He quickly puts his finger to his mouth, scowling at Doyoung.

“Is there anything else you know?” Doyoung says, his voice strained.

“Seemed familiar, but it’s impossible that he’s come to watch before. I would have remembered. You would hardly believe how strong of an energy force he had!” Lucas says giddily. “Just sitting in the booth, I could feel it.”

Doyoung purses his lips, concern filling his stance. There’s a tension in his shoulders that has not been relieved since Jaehyun’s arrival all those months ago. He takes a moment to himself before replying to Lucas, “Keep an eye on him.”

Lucas nods, and turns back to find Taeil and inform him of the request.

“Is it someone important?” Taeyong asks, not long after, as he’s securing the last of Doyoung’s buttons. “We hardly need strict monitoring anymore.”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Doyoung says, but doesn’t elaborate. Once his jacket is suited up, he pulls on its front so it sits across his shoulders more comfortably. He takes the top hat off the table and places it on his head. “Come. The show will be starting soon.”

Nothing goes wrong throughout the show, which is a momentary relief, but also leaves Doyoung holding his breath the entire time. Whilst out on the platform in the middle of the ring, he searches the dark mass of the audience as if he could pinpoint the magic user Lucas had reported. Of course, it doesn’t work.

Lucas sneaks out of the back flap of the tent once the show is over, quickly evading the rest of the cast dragging themselves to their mirrors and collapsing in their chairs. Nobody notices him disappear, too caught up in ridding themselves of the layers of their costumes, just a little afraid of Kun coming back around to berate them if he finds a permanent stain anywhere.

Loud chatter comes into focus as Lucas nears the exit of the main tent, the audience slowly leaving in crowds. He stays hidden along the folds of the tent t with his costume and makeup still on, but his eyes scan through the masses, searching for that peculiar man from before. It’s dark, reaching the late-night hours, and that only makes his mission harder.

“Are you looking for someone?”

Lucas nearly jumps out of his skin with how clear the voice by him is, a stark contrast to the excited but far-off yells of the crowds. He spins around to find the man, clad in his dark trench coat, hands hidden in his pockets. Lucas hadn’t noticed it before, but the man’s face is completely shaded by the brim of his hat, the string of lights lining the circus tent top only lighting up his side profile.

“Yes, actually.” Lucas’ surprise melds into an ear-to-ear smile. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh?”

Lucas steps closer and cups a hand to his mouth, as if to whisper a secret no one can possibly hear. “I felt it, the magic in you. You should come to meet the cast. We’re just like you.”

With the shadow cast across the man’s eyes, Lucas doesn’t notice the sinister flash that crosses them at his offer. 

“It would be an honor. Please, lead the way, young man.”

After the last show of each month, the cast pops open a glass bottle of whatever drink they find in storage as a short celebration for finishing another great series of shows, and for surviving another month of risking their lives for the joy of entertainment. It’s just a short moment of respite for them, to spend an hour or two in each other’s comfort, like a big family get-together, before they’re off for the races again. It’s a good, short interruption to their daily schedule.

The glasses are passed around, with Yuta generously filling each of them to the brim amidst the mess of stray costume pieces and excited people. Every few seconds, there’s a chorus of loud, shrill laughter from different conversations around the room. All is well, a warm, happy flame that flickers with life. 

“Has anyone seen Lucas?” A worried Renjun comments as he receives his glass. His hands grip it tensely, maybe enough to crush it between his fingers. “He’s been gone since the show ended.”

“I’m sure he’s just making sure everyone is leaving safely,” Haechan reassures. He reaches over and pulls on Renjun’s fingers to loosen his grip on his glass. “He does that, often.”

“He usually doesn’t go out alone, though…” 

Haechan tenses for a moment, but then puts a hand on Renjun’s shoulder. “Don’t worry too much, he can take care of himself.”

And just like that, the flame goes out, the oxygen disappearing as they’re put in an airtight seal, and the conversations halt immediately as they glance at the newcomer by the tent flap, a dark, tall figure without a definite face. They wouldn’t have even noticed his arrival with how he blends into the night sky.

Lucas enters with a wide smile on his face, but the stranger doesn’t cross into the tent.

“Doyoung, this is who I was talking about.” Lucas gestures for the man to follow him inside, but he doesn’t.

They feel it, the power that’s turned into dangerous electricity in the air. It’s so strong that it feels as if it is tampering with their own powers, as if it is so large that it’s squeezing the magic of the rest of the circus out of the tent. They’re choking without oxygen.

Doyoung stands, taking a few tentative steps forward, as if to act like a barrier, to keep the rest of the circus behind him, safe.

In suit, the stranger steps by Lucas, and finally, the lights indoors illuminate his face under his hat, which he takes off with a gloved hand.

“Johnny.”

It should have been impossible. Johnny, the name of a human government official out for magical blood. But with the power that clings to his skin, they realize that it’s not what they thought at all. Johnny’s not just some human. He’s magical, and he’s fighting against his own kind.

The magic hunter scans the tent, his eyes taking a moment to linger on each and every one of them in the tent, a little unsettling, passing his gaze over Mark, who has a protective arm wrapped around Haechan, and whose stare is burning into Ten. They share a glance filled with uncertainty. 

Johnny’s gaze sweeps to Haechan, who hardly flinches, only tightens his hold on Mark’s arm. Johnny barely falters, not until he moves over to Taeyong, whose eyes are wide and shiny with tears. Taeyong, sweet, sweet Taeyong, who looks as if he’s about to go unconscious from shock.

Johnny closes his hand into a tight fist by his side. He would have to stray from the plan slightly, from this new _ development _ that’s been made. 

“I can practically smell the fear in here,” Johnny sneers. He returns his focus to Doyoung. “I’ll take it that means they know who I am.”

Of course, for it’s a name that’s so quietly whispered that it’s nearly forgotten. They have all heard of the things he has done and can do to magic users like them. The way he kills them brutally, mercilessly, as if the blood that falls on his hands once the deed is done was cold all along.

“Why are you here?” Doyoung says, voice strong as steel, but his fingers are twitching, hidden behind his back.

Johnny ignores him, taking a few steps around, pacing, biding his time. “I didn’t know you were harboring human slaves along with so many magic users. Isn’t that a little, how should I describe this, _ cruel?_” With the way he smiles, Johnny might as well have sharp teeth, filled with everything constituting evil. 

He looks towards Jaehyun as he says this, and that’s when Jaehyun suddenly recognizes the red line across Johnny’s cheek, a healed gash that had been open the last time they’d met.

“And not only do you have human slaves, you have a dead one as well.” Johnny smirks, his eyes shifting to Taeil, looking him up and down. They can only watch as Johnny approaches him. “Say, do you miss your old man back home? Senator Moon is still grieving over his firstborn son’s death. How is he going to feel knowing you left a perfect life for _ this?_”

Taeil stands his ground, unflinching, even as Johnny drags a finger down his jaw, forcefully tilting his chin up. For a moment, the circus holds its breath, Johnny looking down haughtily at a human. 

Johnny’s nostrils flare with concealed anger when Taeil only narrows his eyes at him, refusing to answer. Johnny drops his arm and takes a step back. He alters his strategy and heads for Jaehyun instead. 

“And you?” Johnny seems to be expecting a certain answer, and Jaehyun knows he won’t abide by it.

He feels a surge of confidence from seemingly nowhere, and steps forward, side by side with Doyoung, towards Johnny, and says, “I’m here on my own will.”

Johnny cocks his head, an eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

“I’m here because I want to be. Nobody kidnapped me, nobody forced me to stay here.”

Johnny scoffs. “Well, _ unfortunately,_ you won’t be here for long.” He paces towards Jaehyun, who’s quickly blocked by Doyoung’s arm. Johnny looks at it in distaste. “I’m not here for the circus yet. I’m here for you, tonight.”

From across the tent, Haechan’s lips twist into a frown.

Johnny clears his throat as he procures a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his coat. “Your workplace noticed your consistent absence for the past couple of weeks, and they have tried to contact you and your friends back home.” Johnny sends Jaehyun a pointed look. “You obviously couldn’t contact them back, with you trapezing across the country like this. Your friends have practically gone mad trying to find you. They filed a missing persons report. And now I’m here to bring you back.”

Jaehyun can feel Doyoung’s eyes on him, and only him. He’s waiting for an answer just as much as Johnny is. And Jaehyun knows the answer that he wants to give, but he hesitates. Once he makes up his mind, it’s final.

He sucks in a breath before saying, “I’m not going back.”

Out of his peripheral vision, he sees Doyoung’s jaw drop slightly.

“I don’t need to go back,” Jaehyun repeats, and his hands fidget, his nails digging into the meat of his palm. For some reason, he’s having trouble getting the words out of his throat. Maybe it’s Johnny’s intense glare, or the shock that still hasn’t left Doyoung’s face, but Jaehyun knows that this is just… right. “I’m happy here. You can go back and tell my friends that I’m safe, and that I quit my job. But I’m not leaving.”

There’s only silence that follows.

“Alright.” Johnny grits his teeth, but he almost seems satisfied with Jaehyun’s response. As if his choice to stay had solidified something, but Jaehyun can’t quite pick up what it is. “If you’re sure that’s what you would like.”

“It is.”

Johnny steps back, and that added distance, albeit short, breathes life back into the tent. The magic hunter turns without another word and heads for the exit, but stops right at the threshold. He turns his chin, just barely. Silver moonlight casts on the sharp incline of his cheekbones.

“It was nice seeing you again, Doyoung.”

The wind picks up as he leaves, pulling on ends of his coat, and it billows like a cape. And with that, Johnny disappears as if the wind sweeps him away into the darkness.

The circus inhales again, relieved of its chokehold, and the first breath is let out as a heart-wrenching sob from Taeyong.

The sky is dark, the waning moon hidden by a blanket of black, angry clouds, but the fire in front of Jaehyun brightens up the night.

He fiddles with the notebook in his hands for a minute, shifting it between them and running a finger along the engraved letters on the side. It feels lighter now, the pictures having been carefully removed and given to Chenle and the other boys after dinner. He starts to stick a finger under the cover, then decides against it. Better to get this over with quickly, before he burns the whole field down and wakes up the entire circus.

“What are you doing?”

Jaehyun jolts in surprise at the voice and turns around to see Doyoung walking up to him. Seems he wasn’t inconspicuous enough after all.

Doyoung comes to a stop next to him and peers at the small fire crackling at their feet curiously. “It’s cold tonight, isn’t it?” he asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question. He tilts his head up towards the sky, and the light from the fire traces his jawline in the dark. “Looks like a storm is coming.”

Jaehyun hums in agreement.

“Why are you here, Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun blinks. “I didn’t want to wake anyone else up, and I couldn’t get into the cab of the train where the engine is, so—”

“Not _ here, _ Jaehyun. You know what I mean.” Doyoung turns his eyes to Jaehyun’s, and they bore into his soul. “Why did you stay?”

Jaehyun’s mouth goes dry, and for a moment he stays silent, carefully choosing his words. He finally settles on, “I never really felt at home there.” _ But it feels like home here. _

It goes unsaid, the words hanging in the air between them, but Jaehyun knows Doyoung heard them loud and clear by the way the corners of his lips curl up slightly.

“I see. Get some rest, Jaehyun.” Doyoung watches the orange flames tickling their toes, then looks at the notebook held limply in Jaehyun’s hand. “And do put out the fire after you’re done doing… whatever it is you’re doing,” he says, a hint of an amused glint in his eyes.

“Will do,” Jaehyun responds. He kicks at the dirt next to the fire as reassurance.

Doyoung nods and turns around to leave. He barely takes one step before Jaehyun calls out, “Wait, Doyoung.” 

Doyoung pivots back around to face him. There’s something hopeful that flickers with the fire in his eyes.

“Goodnight,” Jaehyun says.

It’s dark, but he still sees Doyoung’s smile, shaped like the crescent moon hidden in the sky. “Goodnight, Jaehyun,” he says, then continues walking back towards the train.

Jaehyun’s eyes follow his retreating form for a minute, then he turns back to the task at hand. He weighs the notebook in both hands, flipping it back and forth, casting the memory of the precious leather into his mind. He still appreciates its beauty, its craftsmanship, but it’s what’s between the pages that he has to get rid of.

He doesn’t cry as he tosses the notebook into the fire, and the sound of the flames licking up the crinkled paper is satisfying and saddening at the same time. When all that’s left is a charred black mess, he grabs the bucket of water on the ground next to him and pours it over the fire with an audible _ hiss. _ The train’s horn lets out a loud whistle, signaling its departure, and Jaehyun follows the sound back, like the north star leading him home.

A week later, when he returns to his room after dinner, a fresh leatherbound notebook is sitting on his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done with finals so hopefully we'll be back to our bi-weekly schedule. Happy Lunar New Year everyone!
> 
> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
[twitter (ohcanadaman)](https://twitter.com/ohcanadaman)  
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[curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)  
[character profiles (the ringmaster carrd)](https://theringmaster.carrd.co/)  
[official spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6wR8vufsZ6CFCkLGaSrxQa?si=1Cr7CB-3QZS7-PnXjvWLqg)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I think, I hope, that means I’m part of your family too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in honor of Jaehyun’s early birthday, here’s a longer chapter. Enjoy ^__^
> 
> Working title: The Twelfth Chapter of Jaehyun Being Useless (also, yes, this is still a dojae fic, we have not forgotten)

Nobody talks about it. It stays hanging in the air, always looming but never completely present, but nobody addresses the elephant in the tent. Nobody _ wants _to talk about it. They don’t understand what exactly it is that happened, and how they managed to survive an encounter with the most feared magic hunter in the country.

So it stays, and with a weight threatening to press down on them at all times, the circus grows tense with every day that passes, always wondering, always on edge, always waiting for Johnny to come back and finish them off once and for all.

And nobody asks Doyoung what it all meant. Whether Johnny knew Doyoung before, and then some. There are questions left unasked on everyone’s tongues, and that’s how it seems it’ll be, for some time. He doesn’t bother explaining it, anyways.

Doyoung redirects their course, Jaehyun realizes, when after another week passes and they’ve gone nowhere near a big city. The spots they choose are deep into the rural plains, and it just feels dry, like the sense of adventure suddenly disappeared. Like they’re hiding instead of performing.

Nobody questions it.

There’s also a shift in dynamics, Jaehyun can feel it. The way Doyoung is silent at dinner, avoiding Ten and Taeyong like a plague, sticking next to Jaehyun whenever he manages to actually leave his office. Jisung and Chenle aren’t as boisterous and rowdy, and Jaehyun misses the messes they always make, even though it was a hassle for him to clean up before.

And then there’s Mark and Haechan. Jaehyun knows that Mark isn’t typically the most affectionate unless someone is affectionate towards him. So he was surprised to see Mark trying to grab ahold of Haechan’s hand on his own accord. Still, Haechan lacked a response, prompting Mark to wraps his arms around Haechan’s shoulders, pulling his back into the curve of Mark’s body.

Most troubling of all, Haechan had an emptiness in his eyes, even when Mark hooked his chin on Haechan’s shoulder, a little habit he had picked up not too long ago. As Jaehyun turned the corner to search for Kun, Haechan had retracted from Mark’s embrace, shaking his arms off. Jaehyun could only imagine the look on Mark’s face afterward.

Looking at Doyoung though, it seemed that he couldn’t bring this trouble up with him. There’s always something on his mind, and Jaehyun doesn’t want to make a bigger deal out of what it’s worth. Maybe it’s just another quarrel they’ll resolve, eventually, when the air clears up. 

So the days pass, slowly and quickly at the same time, and Jaehyun busies himself with helping Kun and Taeyong with little chores here and there. Occasionally, Chenle drags him away halfway through his task to play another game with the rest of them, which is a good distraction, really. 

Jaehyun does notice the gaping hole amongst the friends now that Haechan and Mark are missing. But he pushes the thought aside. There’s more pressing matters at hand.

Though Jaehyun prefers his solitude when there’s not too much work tasked to him, he finds himself sitting across from Chenle and Jisung, elbows propped on his knees as he leans forward, focused on how Jisung shuffles the cards in his hands, letting them fall from one hand into another. “This is a normal deck of cards, as you can see,” Jisung states, letting Jaehyun take a quick glance as he slows his shuffling. He then straightens the deck out and randomly picks the card on top.

Jisung tucks the corner of the card between his lips, fanning out the rest of the deck in his hands in a circle, like a prideful peacock showing off its bright blue feathers. The deck itself isn’t the normal one he uses with the standard red patterns along its back. Instead, this deck is black, embellished with golden print details, as if intricately carved in marble. 

He mumbles something incoherent, considering the card in his mouth, gesturing to Jaehyun with his free hand as if that would somehow clear up what he’s trying to say.

Jaehyun only replies with a quizzical tilt of his head.

“Oh, hold on, I can translate.” Chenle settles on the ground next to the two of them, wrapping his arms around his legs as he carefully watches Jisung repeat his mumbles. “He says to pick a card. And to not show him.”

Jaehyun does as told, plucking a card and cupping his palm around it. It’s the three of hearts, but the heart in the middle of the card has been stabbed through with three swords, which Jaehyun stares at peculiarly.

Jisung tucks the cards back together into a pile and takes the card out from his lips, hiding it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

Chenle smiles up at the two deviously, scooting over to Jisung’s side. “Oh, I love this trick,” he comments, his leg bouncing excitedly.

Jisung offers the rest of the deck of cards to Jaehyun. “Remember your card and place it anywhere in this deck and shuffle it.” Once he does so, Jisung takes it back, covering the deck with a palm, and he closes his eyes, but points at Jaehyun to watch the cards.

Slowly but surely, a single card wiggles its way out from in between the deck until it frees itself from its brothers, and whips up into the air as if it had a mind of its own. It lands on Jaehyun’s knee with another flourish.

Just as Jaehyun is about to pick the card up, its snatched away by an invisible force, soaring up before diving back down to circle Jisung’s body in a tight orbit. 

“That one is not your card,” Jisung says, and carefully procures the card hidden in his pocket. “I chose your card before you did, actually.”

And there it is, the same three of hearts with the same, odd patterning, but Jisung swipes a hand over it, and the heart begins to pulse, the blood from the pierced swords dripping like paint. 

Jisung calls back the card circling him and lets it fly into Jaehyun’s open palm. The beating heart falls in rhythm with its pair. 

_ Two hearts beat as one _ is the first phrase that comes to mind, and Jaehyun doesn’t know exactly what this implies, but lets it go.

Jisung quickly collects the cards and lets them fall again from hand to hand like a waterfall as he reshuffles, and Chenle, despite how many times he’s watched Jisung fidget with cards, watches in fascination.

And not long after, Jaehyun finds a deck of beat up cards in his own hands as he tries to copy Jisung’s nimble fingers pitching four cards in arches. 

“No, Jaehyun, you’re doing it all wrong!” Chenle bursts into another fit of laughter when the cards scatter from Jaehyun’s hands and onto the ground, while Jisung’s stay perfectly slotted in his fingers. “Say, I could probably do this a million times better than you.”

Chenle sneaks some cards away from Jaehyun’s pile and tries to copy Jisung as well.

“You know your hands are too small to do this properly,” Jisung says with a fond sigh, putting his cards down so he can use both hands to help reposition Chenle’s fingers. 

Jaehyun watches them argue for a moment, Chenle complaining, _ my hands are average-sized, excuse you, _and Jisung retorting, _ and that means you can’t do this properly! _

It’s endearing, to say the least. Jaehyun realizes that he’s missed this light-heartedness. He turns the three of hearts card, no longer moving under Jisung’s illusion magic, between his fingers, and loses himself in his thoughts and the repetitive motion of his fidgeting.

Nothing particular comes to mind, but he wonders for a moment, what this _ Johnny _ character is going to do to the circus. It doesn’t scare him, somehow, knowing he’s being hunted as well in this sea of prey, but it makes him curious about Johnny’s intentions. And then, Jaehyun thinks about Taeyong and Haechan and Doyoung and—

“How can you manage to find happiness in a time like this?”

Jaehyun blinks a few times, snapping out of his reverie. 

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun says as Doyoung takes a seat on the grass by his makeshift barrel-chair. “I guess I’ve grown immune after working as a reporter for so long. I spend so much time fixated on the broken things people prefer to call news that I know how to look for the few good things.”

Doyoung leans his shoulder against the side of the barrel, and his head rests gently against Jaehyun’s thigh. They watch as Chenle tries to stuff a card down Jisung’s mouth, probably triggered by another one of Jisung’s mild insults.

“That’s a good thing to be able to do. We forget our youth sometimes.” Jaehyun can practically hear the smile making its way onto Doyoung’s face, and Jaehyun really, _ really _ wants to move his hand lying limply on his leg to Doyoung’s hair and feel just how soft it is. “I’m glad they don’t have to worry as much yet. It’s too much of a burden on them.”

Jaehyun feels Doyoung’s head shift on his leg, and glances down, meeting Doyoung’s gaze that looks so soft and so innocent. He seems as if he’s about to say something, but decides against it, even when his mouth had already opened to form his first words.

Instead, they settle in silence, and Jaehyun thinks he can be here forever, watching Jisung and Chenle bicker over little things, with Doyoung leaning right by his side.

When the sun starts to set over the horizon, Doyoung announces it’s time for them to stop playing and go to dinner, ushering the youngest few along like children until they are running off towards the big tent. He even has to confiscate Jisung’s card deck, or Jisung would likely be shuffling and fidgeting with it all night and leave his dinner untouched. However, one look from Chenle, who quietly says with a smile, “It’s your favorite tonight, I can smell it!” and they’re off again in a flurry.

Jaehyun, sure he’s unable to keep up with the two teens, walks at Doyoung’s side at a slower pace instead. He tucks his hands in his pockets, away from the cold.

“How are the others faring? How do they feel about… ” he trails off, not sure if saying his name would trigger something.

If it does, Doyoung doesn’t show it. “Most of them are a little tense, which is understandable. Taeil and Taeyong have been a little quiet, drowning themselves in work. But for the most part everyone seems to be okay, if a little shaken up.”

“And are you worried?” Jaehyun asks.

“I’m not sure, Jaehyun. We didn’t see him coming this time. Even Sicheng couldn’t predict it. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” Doyoung scowls and fiddles with the white bracelet on his wrist as he remembers something. “Ten threw a fit about it. He thinks we need to lie low, put shows on hiatus and get out of the spotlight for a while. He’s always been the most paranoid when it comes to Johnny.”

Jaehyun thinks back to that night on the carousel with Ten, to what he had told Jaehyun about his encounter with the hunter. “About Ten. Do you think he’s—”

As they approach the tent, Jaehyun cuts off at the sound of raised voices.

“Ten, _ shut up. _You can’t accuse him with no proof!”

Jaehyun turns to Doyoung with questions in his eyes. _ Mark? _

“Who said I was accusing anyone? I just said he’s been acting strange and you should keep an eye on him because I don’t trust—”

“He’s done nothing wrong! Everyone is on edge and I know you’re stressed, but for God’s sake, if you don’t trust him then just trust _ me. _”

As they’re about to reach the front side of the tent, Doyoung stops Jaehyun in his place behind a stack of crates with an arm, signaling with a finger to keep quiet.

Jaehyun peers around the wooden boxes to see Mark and Ten facing each other. Mark’s back is towards him, but he can clearly see Ten, whose mouth is curled at the corners into a deep frown. “Of course I trust you,” Ten says, almost a little offended.

“Then believe me when I say that there’s nothing to be worried about,” Mark pleads, sounding a little overwhelmed.

“I wouldn’t say that avoiding everyone, avoiding _ you,_ is something not to be concerned about. It’s like he just disappears, sometimes. We can’t find him until he wants to be found.” Ten’s voice, though quieter, is still accusatory.

“Ten,” Mark says, and it’s tired and heavy. “Taeil and Taeyong have been more distant too. This isn’t any different. I _ know _ him. Trust me.”

Ten sighs, and Jaehyun sees all of the irateness seep out of his face. “I know,” he says. He brings a hand up to push a piece of hair out of Mark’s eyes. “I just worry about you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Mark protests. Ten tucks the lock of hair behind Mark’s ear and traces down the shell of his ear with a finger, tugging on his earlobe at the end. Mark bats away his hand, and Jaehyun can imagine the glare he gives Ten that makes the other laugh.

Doyoung decides to reveal his hiding spot then, going around the crates to say, “I’m not sure about that, Mark.”

“Why hello there, Doyoung,” Ten greets. “Care to eavesdrop more often?”

Mark turns around to face Doyoung and Jaehyun, who emerges from behind the crates to join the trio. But Mark’s still caught up in his own emotions, and his eyes are wide as he asks Doyoung, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe just the fact that you used to get lost in every city you tried to run away in,” Doyoung teases, and Mark scowls at him.

“I was fifteen, you can’t hold that against me!” he says.

“You’re lucky I found you every time,” Ten retorts, with a flick to the back of Mark’s head that makes him wince.

Jaehyun smiles slightly at the two, the playful duo he never would have expected.

“Hurry up and get to dinner you two,” Doyoung urges, much like he did with the children, and waits until he sees them start towards the tent entrance before trailing a few yards behind them.

As they walk behind the two, who are still bickering and poking each other, Jaehyun lets the better of his curiosity get to him. “I’ve never seen them together. Are they close?”

Doyoung nods. “We all are. They were the first two I met, Mark when he was fourteen and Ten a year later. Back then it was just us three against the world, hopping from city to city, hotel to hotel. They were the first real family I had, though I regret not being there for them much.” He looks fondly at the two in front of them and smiles. “Though I guess because I was out so often, they grew closer. It may not seem like it, but they probably have the closest relationship here at the circus. They know each other inside and out.”

“It’s good that they have each other. That you all had each other.”

“It is.” Doyoung’s gaze casts to the ground, and he lets out a short sigh. “It really is.”

Jaehyun drags his fingers delicately across the smooth varnish of each carousel horse, moving from one to the next, admiring its craftsmanship for the hundredth time. This first one, a cream, spotted mare, is smooth to the touch, and is closest to perfection with how well it’s been maintained over the years. The next one, one with a deeper brown coat, is splattered with rust patches and peeled paint instead, rough on Jaehyun’s fingers. Each horse, as he passes by them, are individually characterized by different patterns on their coats and different etchings on their saddles. 

With his new notebook in hand, he climbs onto the back of a dark stallion and settles in a comfortable position, his back against the head of the horse, his legs on either side of its body. Then, he pulls out the pen tucked behind his ear, and gently presses the tip to the crisp, new paper. 

God, he doesn’t even know what he could write about, but it’s such a natural feeling to have his pen in hand, ready to scratch down whatever comes to mind. And the weight of the new notebook, though different, makes him remember why he fell in love with writing as a boy. This is good. Familiar.

The carousel begins to turn on its own, and because Jaehyun’s sitting on the opposite side away from the control panel, he has absolutely no idea who’s dropping by for a visit. It could be Ten, playing another one of his little invisibility tricks, or Chenle and Jisung trying to mess with him for attention. But Jaehyun isn’t prepared to see Doyoung walking towards him, against the clockwise path of the carousel.

He doesn’t take a seat, and instead, slots himself in between Jaehyun’s horse and the one in front of him. Doyoung leans against the flank of the horse, his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. And he’s silent, eyes trained on Jaehyun, and he seems to have something on his mind. 

Jaehyun, after a count of waiting for Doyoung to say something, anything, goes back to his notebook, and his pen glides across the lines in smooth curls of letters. But he can’t quite focus on what he’s writing with the feeling of Doyoung’s intent gaze laying so heavily on him.

The carousel turns, around and around, in a never-ending loop, and Jaehyun knows, it’s exhausting to keep going like this in this circle. Every step they take forward is followed by two steps back, and Jaehyun can only sit and anticipate the next step they would take back. Him and Doyoung… This is how it will be, because they live in a dangerous world that cannot afford for them to hide in a perfect bubble. They live in a world that bites, and one that bites with poison dripping from its canines.

Jaehyun shuts his notebook with a snap and tucks his pen behind his ear again. Instead, he meets Doyoung’s eyes, and it sends a tremor through his body, because he can see that Doyoung is no longer carrying the weight of a hundred men, of fear and worry and apprehension. Instead, there’s a peaceful veil over him, a tranquility that calms Jaehyun as well. The carousel continues to spin.

Jaehyun doesn’t know what their boundaries are, and if he didn’t have tight control over his heart, he might have just reached forward to trace his fingers along the planes of Doyoung’s face, to admire his features by touch rather than just sight. He wants to, God, he wants to. The carousel lights bathe Doyoung in gold, and Jaehyun is a greedy Midas that wants it all.

The carousel launches into another revolution, but it feels slower this time around.

At last, Doyoung clears his throat, shifting his stance and gaze away from Jaehyun. “We should really get some of these horses repainted,” Doyoung says distractedly. A hand falls on the tail of the horse he’s leaning on, fingers picking at the flakes of paint. 

“Some places need re-oiling too. It’s getting old.” Jaehyun smiles to himself, a little bittersweet.

“That’s alright. We can fix it, soon.”

“Okay.”

Jaehyun swings his legs over to the side of his horse, sliding off to the carousel platform. The sun’s nearly completely gone, anyways, and Jaemin and Jeno are expecting him to be back for a game of dominoes before bed. 

Doyoung’s attention remains fixated on the Jaehyun, a little blurred, not focused on his eyes. Jaehyun pauses, uncertain.

It’s when Doyoung’s fingers brush against the Jaehyun’s temple, ever-so-slightly, to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear, that Jaehyun realizes why there’s a burning spreading through his body like a wildfire.

He’s not just breaching the surface. He’s fallen much further than he thought he was. He’s been drawn too deep, and it means he’ll willingly let himself drown, drown in Doyoung, with his ink-black hair and sharp chin, curved lips and protective, loving nature.

As they make their way around, Doyoung steps off the platform to the control panel, and Jaehyun watches as he pulls the lever. The lights of the carousel shut off, row by row, and the circling slows to a standstill.

One step forward. And then another, and another, and another.

In all honesty, Jaehyun prefers sunrises to sunsets. There’s less bustling in the mornings, life is still in its slumber, slowly peeling themselves awake for the day; to watch as everything slips back into reality is a feeling Jaehyun can’t possibly describe in its entirety.

He had retired earlier than the rest of his cabinmates the night before, declining to play a third round of their game. The car itself felt incomplete, now that Mark’s gone into a silent brooding period and Haechan’s sleeping elsewhere temporarily. He can tell that everyone just wants the two to make up so the tension could dissipate. 

It had affected Jaehyun in sleep too, and he spent a few hours tossing and turning until he could hear the first crows of roosters in the distance. 

So, he pulls on his coat and tiptoes out of the car. There’s frost gracing the tips of the grass, and it gives in to a little _ crunch _ when his feet hit the ground. It is still dark, but the night is a fainter blue, signaling that dawn is coming.

He wanders across the fields, and there’s an eeriness in seeing the fairgrounds this empty. There’s usually always someone rushing around somewhere, but the circus sleeps, at least until the sun rises.

But there’s a faint color that catches Jaehyun’s eyes as he passes by the main tent. The color of cotton candy, bright against the night backdrop. Curious, he heads in that direction instead.

Taeyong is wrapped in a thick layer of blankets when Jaehyun finds him, and he’s right on the edge of the hill the circus is set upon. His hair is pink rather than its normal honey brown shade.

Jaehyun stands by him, taking turns watching the slimmest of sun rays shine onto the sky like spotlights, and Taeyong, at his glossy eyes.

“I hardly got to see sunrises like this before the circus,” Taeyong says quietly, almost to himself. He tightens his hold on his blanket, snuggling into his homemade cocoon. “My night shifts ran too late for me to properly enjoy it. I’d be dragging myself home in a heap by then.”

Jaehyun nods, and he really, really doesn’t want to pry, but Taeyong’s mysterious words make it so difficult. 

“I like the pink. Looks nice.”

Taeyong hums a quiet _ thanks _ at Jaehyun’s offhand compliment, and a hand goes up to tuck a strand behind his ear. 

Jaehyun didn’t think Johnny’s visit would have affected Taeyong like this. Taeyong, he’s lost so much confidence in the span of the days, his demeanor quieting more and more every day, until it felt like Jaehyun would hardly be able to find him. It concerns Jaehyun.

Even when Jaehyun makes the effort to talk to him, Taeyong is always lost in his own thoughts, in some separate reality from the rest of them. Some instinct tells Jaehyun that Johnny’s appearance had triggered something in Taeyong that couldn’t be shelved that easily.

He tries his best to recall their conversation weeks ago at Taeyong’s birthday, but in that drunken mess, nothing comes to mind besides Taeyong’s sobbing about some unnamed figure in his previous life. God, he really wishes he hadn’t drunk that much.

“Taeyong, are you feeling alright? You’ve been… off lately,” Jaehyun says.

“It’s fine. Nothing is wrong. Just a bit shaken up, I suppose,” Taeyong responds quickly with a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think we’d ever get so close to _ him. _”

“No, it runs deeper than that.” Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “You knew him before. This wasn’t the first time you met.”

Again, Taeyong’s hand flies up to his hair, to pull at a tuft by his temple. “Jaehyun…” he says, a little exasperated, a little scared.

“It’s okay, don’t tell me.” Jaehyun tries to keep his voice gentle, afraid that Taeyong might just combust on his own. “I understand that it’s personal. You just need to know that we’ll be here.”

Taeyong’s voice is so meek, and it scares Jaehyun a little.

“I can’t tell you. Or Doyoung, or anyone, as a matter of fact. I’m glad you’re looking out for me, though. I really do appreciate it.” Taeyong takes a deep breath, and it comes out in a puff of white. “But this is my battle to fight. I need to figure it all out myself.”

Taeyong smiles when the sun climbs high enough to cast a long shadow across the circus, the tents long and misshapen. His hair is still pink, but at the roots, the sun seems to bleach it back to honey, which reassures Jaehyun just a bit more.

“Love is a cruel little thing, but it’s also the most amazing thing the world has to offer,” Taeyong says, and though it’s distant and unclear, Jaehyun can tell he’s coming back to terms with himself. “We just have to learn how to tame it.”

It’s quiet except for the occasional caw of a rooster, trying its best to wake everyone up, no matter how many crows it would take.

Taeyong loosens his blanket so that it falls across his shoulder like a cape instead. “Would you like to help me prepare breakfast? There’s a lot of pancakes to be cooked before the boys wake up. I swear, they have never-ending stomachs.” Taeyong laughs, but this time, he’s calm and genuinely happy.

“Of course,” Jaehyun says, and follows him through the tents to the kitchen.

The metal rungs of the ladder are shockingly cold to the touch on the otherwise warm night. Or, maybe the night is actually cold, and it’s the feeling that Jaehyun gets when he looks up and sees Doyoung smiling down at him from the top of the train car that creates the warmth, starting at his heart and spreading like a wildfire out through his chest and into his arms and legs all the way to the tips of his fingers curled tightly around the steel bars.

He scales the last few steps up the ladder, then places his palms flat against the top of the car, pulling himself up until his feet land steadily on the roof. Doyoung’s now seated on the edge opposite to the ladder, facing the bright street lights in the distance, and Jaehyun quietly walks over and seats himself next to the ringmaster.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

A beat passes before Doyoung answers, truthful. “You.”

“Oh.” Jaehyun’s can feel his cheeks start to color, and there’s no biting wind tonight for him to blame it on.

Doyoung taps his fingers lightly on the car, his nails creating a rhythm of _ clack, clack, clack, clack_, against the metal. Jaehyun itches to grab the other’s hand, if only to stop the noise of Doyoung’s nervousness.

The clacking pauses for a second, and Doyoung turns his head to face Jaehyun. “You could’ve left.” 

“With Johnny?”

“No.” Doyoung is looking down now, drawing mindless circles across the car’s surface with his index finger. “Before that. Every city, every show, you could have run off. It’s not like we could have stopped you.”

“But I didn’t,” Jaehyun says.

“But you didn’t,” Doyoung repeats. “I know you said it never really felt like home to you back there… but why here?” Doyoung looks out at the bright yellow lights in the distance, blinking like dying stars. “There’s plenty of places out there, plenty of new opportunities to start a new life. You’re human, you could have a normal life. Move out to the city, get a better job.” He points out past the field to the buildings afar. “You’d have a chance at a better life out there than you would stuck gallivanting with a circus, and a wanted one as well.”

Jaehyun lets out a short laugh at that. “A better life doing what? Working a typical office job? I was never one for the ‘Get a job, get married, have children,’ plan.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Doyoung…”

“You’re human, Jaehyun. Do you know how much of a privilege that is? Do you know how many of us here at some point wished they could have that? That Kun wanted to open his own tailor shop? That Taeyong dreamed of travelling all around the world? That Chenle wished he could’ve gone to school? Sometimes I wonder if this life is enough for them, if I’m providing enough for them.” Doyoung’s voice chokes at the end, and Jaehyun’s heart wrenches.

“Doyoung, look at me.” Doyoung turns to him, and Jaehyun is surprised to find fear in his eyes, subtle, but still there. Deciding to be brave, he takes a hold of Doyoung’s left wrist and raises it in front of them. He uses his other hand to point at the tiny, star-shaped mark on Doyoung’s finger. “Look at this.”

The tattoo seems to shimmer, a source of light in the darkness of the night. Doyoung’s had dulled overtime, it seems, but the meaning of it remains rooted. Doyoung’s lips fall open, loose, as he casts his gaze to the tattoo. “This is what you gave them. A family, Doyoung. That’s more than they could ask for.” Jaehyun lets Doyoung’s wrist drop from his hand. “You asked me why I wanted to stay here. Well, look,” he says, and raises his own hand, tilting it so they can see the side of his ring finger. He smiles. “I have one too.”

Doyoung laughs at the absurdity of it, loud and melodic, replacing the whistling wind that so often accompanies Jaehyun on nights like these.

Jaehyun takes Doyoung’s hand by the palm this time and laces their fingers together, tattoos melding into one. “And I think, I hope, that means I’m part of your family too,” he says.

“I think you have been for a while,” Doyoung says, but it’s with a sad smile.

Jaehyun brings his other hand up to cup Doyoung’s cheek, aching to pull at the corner of his mouth until the smile is genuine. He settles for brushing a thumb against his cheekbone. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t keep my family safe from Johnny, Jaehyun. They’ll be the first people he comes after, even before me. I can’t keep you safe.”

Jaehyun is quiet for a moment. He lets his hand fall from Doyoung’s face to grasp his hand on his lap. Instinctively, Doyoung leans forward to rest his forehead against Jaehyun’s and shuts his eyes tightly, like a child who’s afraid of the dark.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and Jaehyun can feel the movement of Doyoung’s lips as he speaks. “I’m so scared, Jaehyun. I can’t lose everything. Not again.”

Jaehyun squeezes Doyoung’s hands in his. “Doyoung, you’re going to be okay. Everyone’s here with you. Families stick together. We’re all going to survive together, we’re all going to face Johnny together, and we’re going to be okay.”

Doyoung opens his eyes and looks up at him. “Promise you won’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Doyoung whispers.

Jaehyun can feel Doyoung’s breath ghosting across his lips. He wants so badly to close the distance between them, for their lips to meet, to kiss him and convey everything he can’t say, doesn’t know how to say, to assure him that everything will be okay, that _ they’ll _ be okay. But both of them stay still in the night, only the sound of their breathing filling the dead silence.

Then, Doyoung is pulling back, the cold air hits Jaehyun’s face again, and the silence is broken.

“I should go to sleep,” Doyoung says quietly. “We have a show tomorrow.”

Immediately, Jaehyun misses the close proximity, the warmth, but Jaehyun dampens that feeling and nods as a simple response. 

“Goodnight, Jaehyun,” Doyoung says with a final squeeze to Jaehyun’s hands.

“Goodnight,” Jaehyun responds, and then Doyoung is standing up and climbing down the ladder. The roof of the train clinks as the soles of his shoes patter against the metal.

Jaehyun watches him walk back towards the front of the train until he can’t see him anymore, then turns his head back towards the glowing city on the horizon.

Usually on nights like these, when he stays up long enough for the moon to already be halfway set, his head is full of thoughts, all jumbled up in a giant mess, like a tangled ball of string. By the later hours, he can start to pull on one end, but one thought just leads to another and another, and the more he pulls, the more intricate the web becomes.

But tonight, his head is empty, as silent as the world around him. It’s a rather nice change.

Then, the wind howls, and the silence is broken. The trees rustle, the owls hoot, the clouds momentarily cover the light of the moon.

And, quietly, under all the sudden noise, a voice appears.

“Why isn’t it working?”

Jaehyun snaps his head around, looking for the source.

“Hello?” he calls out tentatively. In the darkness, he meets someone’s eyes, the whites barely reflecting the light from the city and the moon. But, just by the shape of the silhouette, Jaehyun can guess. “Haechan?”

The figure climbs up from the ladder and onto the top of the car, walking towards him in long, heavy strides.

There’s something clutched in their hand, large and weighted, made of steel. The feet stop just an arm’s length or two from where he’s seated. Jaehyun tenses, unable to move away.

“Sorry about this, Jaehyun. You’re a good person, nothing personal.”

The last thing he sees is a flash of moonlight reflecting off the crowbar as it’s raised up, held tightly in two hands, a single one gloved, before he’s knocked unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops, my fingers slipped on the keyboard at the end there...
> 
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	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Doyoung isn't my family. He doesn’t care about _family_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// mild blood & violence
> 
> WOOO we're back in honor of nct 127’s comeback. stream kick it. 
> 
> working title: The “Jaehyun Gets Knocked Out A Bunch” Montage

Something is missing. It’s missing, but Doyoung doesn’t know what it is, why he has this uncomfortable feeling that tells him something is wrong. The moment he woke up the morning after, he’s left with an ache in his body that seems to have arisen out of nowhere. 

It’s after he’s fully dressed and freshened up, on the way out of his car to finish up final preparations for tonight’s show, that he realizes what it is. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, knowing that ultimately, it’s his doing. He had enabled the option, even though every little part of him said to protect Jaehyun, keep him at arm’s length at all times never let him go. 

Doyoung didn’t think Jaehyun would actually choose to leave, in the end.

Something continues to hurt in his body.

Preparations for the show become a messy scramble of searching everywhere for things that are usually always in their designated spots, of the circus running back and forth in worry. The first of their audience was to arrive soon, and they couldn’t find the crowbar to pry open Mark’s crate of props.

Even Kun couldn’t locate their belongings, and it’s as if some of their items have just disappeared into thin air. As if there’s a hole in their parachute they just couldn’t seem to find. And then—

“Where’s Haechan?” Chenle asks amidst the mess, and those simple words silence the entire circus.

Chenle barely finishes saying Haechan’s name before Mark tenses as he reaches into his crate, which he managed to pry open with the back end of a hammer, to pull out his whip. A frown sets into his features, but he doesn’t say anything.

“He’s gone?” Lucas says. “I just saw him last night—”

“Last night was a long time ago.” Mark pulls on his gloves forcefully, then straps his whip to his side. Then, he dives back into the crate, hiding his face away in favor of getting the rest of his props in order. “A lot can happen in a few hours.” The words come out a little muffled.

“So he’s missing,” Jeno concludes. “Or he left.” He fidgets with the knives in his hands, twirling the handles in small figure eights.

“He shouldn’t be able to leave,” Jaemin comments, quietly, and he looks down at his hand, at the star tattoo. He lets out a quiet sigh, but Jeno places a steady hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

“The show must go on, whether Haechan is here with us or not. Ten will just perform to the pre-recorded music.” Doyoung says as he steps away from the mirror he had been using to straighten out his jacket, and towards the center of the tent where the rest of them had gathered. “It’s what we do here. I’m sure he’ll have at least the courtesy to let us know where he’s gone, eventually.”

Mark scoffs as he pulls out the last of his props, then shuts his crate and kicks it under a table. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

Doyoung spares Mark a short, concerned glance, but quickly turns back to address the rest of the circus. “Don’t let this change how the show goes. We’ll put on as great of a performance as we always do, with or without him.”

The circus nods, a little hesitant, but it’s enough to send them back into a flurry of preparation. Kun’s already running around with a pin cushion strapped to his wrist, ready to fix up any costume malfunctions. 

“He’s not the only one missing.” Taeyong silently slips around Doyoung to lean against the side of the mirror, arms crossed. He’s wearing his normal set of pants and shirt, and Doyoung almost feels out of place, in his decadent tailcoat. A sense of nostalgia rushes through him when he remembers the familiarity of this, when Taeyong had been in costume, leaning against the same mirror with his face decked in glitter and makeup, ready to run out onto the stage for his act. It’s been too long since then.

“Yes, I know that,” Doyoung says. He watches himself in the mirror rather than risk looking at Taeyong. He tries to tuck a stray strand of hair away, but it only falls back down limply, even as he tries to put it back up. “I let him.”

“You let him?”

“I told him that he could leave anytime he wanted. And I guess he decided this wasn’t the place for him.” 

Taeyong hums quietly to himself, his eyes trained on Doyoung’s fingers playing with his golden buttons as if trying to fasten them tighter.

“You let him go, just like that.”

Doyoung lends a cursory shrug. “It was his choice.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that, Doyoung. He wouldn’t leave.”

“_How would you know?_” Doyoung throws his arms down, and his fingers catch on one of the golden chains of his tailcoat, ripping a button off. It falls to the floor with a gentle clink, but Doyoung could care less. “He’s realized the world out there is better for him. He could never find a place to fit in here, as much as I’d like him to.”

Taeyong purses his lips, the tips of his hair fading to white little by little, contemplative. Doyoung has learned to read him well over the years. Taeyong’s always been an open book, especially with his lack of control over hair color. Just a slight shift in the shade can give away his intentions.

Taeyong bends down to grab the broken button. 

Doyoung’s breaths are heavy with the weight of his words. But it’s deafening when Taeyong only turns the button over and over in his fingers, unresponsive. Or maybe he’s refusing to talk now, letting Doyoung revel in his misery and ignorance. 

A frustrated shout catches their attention, and Doyoung glances over his shoulder at the commotion.

Doyoung watches as Ten hastily tries to grab a hold of Mark’s arm, and his mouth opens to say something, but he’s cut off before he can start.

Mark’s knuckles go white as he tightens his hold on a small black bag, whipping around with fury alight in his eyes.

“Ten, I don’t want to hear the whole, _ I told you so _ speech. He left. He’s gone, for who knows how long, and it’s probably my fault. So there’s no need to blame it on him. He just doesn’t want me.” Mark hooks the pouch of tiger treats onto the loop of his trousers, the last part of his ensemble, and he’s stalking away, out of the back tent. Ten’s arm drops to his side as he watches the younger disappear around the corner.

Doyoung sighs, deep and exhausted, turning back to face the mirror. He surveys the damage on his coat: minimal, but enough for Kun to give him his infamous look of disapproval. He opens his palm towards Taeyong. “I need to get that fixed.”

“You’re wrong this time, for the record. I know he didn’t leave on his own accord.” Taeyong places the button delicately on Doyoung’s hand, his fingers lingering there for a moment. “If he did leave, on purpose, he wouldn’t have left his notebook behind.” 

“His notebook?” Doyoung is about to prod for more information, but is swiftly interrupted.

“Doyoung!”

He’s sure a migraine is to come within the next couple of minutes, between the mess of backstage and everyone’s franticness surrounding him like a suffocating bubble. Doyoung pockets the button and turns towards the source of the sound. Sicheng ducks around the line of vanities with urgent steps to reach the two.

“There’s something for you. It’s enchanted.” Sicheng hands him an envelope, still clean and crisp. And the unspoken hangs in the air. Sicheng can’t see what it is. The magic is far too powerful for them.

Doyoung carefully slides a finger under the opening flap and tears it open, revealing a small sheet of paper. A short, elegant sentence dons the center of the paper, a little ominous, a little threatening.

He sucks in a breath and scans his eyes over the note, again and again until it’s finally ingrained deep in his mind, to be there for the rest of the show, the rest of the night, the only thing that consumes him besides his fear and hatred. 

Taeyong peers over Doyoung’s shoulder, grim as he reads the letter. “What do we do?”

Doyoung folds the note hastily and puts it into the breast pocket sewn along the inside of his coat. “We don’t do anything. The show must go on.”

“But—”

“We live by that one rule,” Doyoung interrupts. “And that’s what we always go by. Sicheng, send Kun in on your way out. I need to get this button fixed ”

Doyoung drops the topic quickly, tugging aimlessly at the broken chain on his coat hem. Taeyong saves him one last incredulous glance, before spinning and heading out of the tent to monitor the entrance. His hair, from the roots, grows aquamarine, til it’s nowhere near his normal honey brown shade.

When Jaehyun jolts awake, all he feels is bitter cold on his wrists, wrapped around him, tight and unforgiving. His head aches, pulsing heavily and incessantly. Even as he tries to move, his neck gives up, and his head lolls against a hard surface. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth that he can’t quite place._ Is that blood? _

He groans, his throat parched from lack of hydration. He doesn’t know how long he’s been knocked out. An hour? A whole night? A day, or more? And, God, his head _ hurts. _

“How nice of you to finally wake up.”

Jaehyun peels an eye open with much effort, but is met with just more darkness. With another grimace, he manages to open both eyes, letting them adjust to the dim lighting. He finally makes out a broad figure across from him, but he can’t process any other details. He takes a few deeper, longer breaths, but nothing aids in relieving the pressure squeezing his temples.

“What do you want from me?” Jaehyun manages to say, but it’s scratchy in his dry throat. He tries to lift his head, but it tilts forward on its own, and Jaehyun expects to fall face first into the ground until something sharp digs into his skin along his shoulders, across his collarbones, holding him to the chair. He glances around and realizes that the cold on his wrist is from the metal handcuffs strapping his hands together around the back of the chair. “Fuck,” he hisses to himself.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun repeats again. The pulsing in his head worsens as the memories of the night before floods back in. Doyoung and him, the roof of the train, _ Haechan. _ “I said I didn’t want to go back home. Why am I here?”

Jaehyun’s vision clears a little, and he can finally see the figure in the corner of the room, lounging lazily with his legs crossed, a cocky smirk glimmering in the dark.

“I’m not here to take you home, no need to worry about that. We’ll let you go back to your little circus family once Doyoung arrives,” Johnny says. “In the meantime, make yourself comfortable.”

Jaehyun grits his teeth, and tries to pry his wrists apart as if that would do something against the strength of the metal. His hands only separate ever so slightly, and add strain to his shoulders when the muscles dig into the chair. He struggles against the rope wrapped tightly across his body, all to no avail. It makes Jaehyun’s blood boil to see Johnny simply smile at his useless attempts.

He takes another deep breath, before letting his body go slack. “What do you mean about Doyoung? Are you expecting him?”

Johnny kicks his legs down and stands to his full height, threatening. Something besides his sinister grin glistens, something in his hand. Silver and sharp. Jaehyun swallows thickly as his eyes focus on the knife by Johnny’s side.

He ignores Jaehyun’s questions completely. “If you’d really like to know why you’re here,” Johnny says nonchalantly, “it’s because you mean a great deal to Doyoung. It doesn’t matter to me what happens to you, exactly, as long as it’s enough for me to get to him here.”

Jaehyun’s hand tightens into a fist, but that’s the only anger he lets on.

“He’ll be vulnerable. Like a bird with a broken wing.” Johnny takes a few more menacing steps towards Jaehyun, until he’s standing right in front of Jaehyun. Johnny flips his blade to lay flat against a gloved hand, then pinches a finger to swipe along its edge. “And when someone is vulnerable, that’s the best time to strike.”

“That is absolutely sickening,” Jaehyun spits, and he can’t help but let the anger take over his features. He struggles to lift his head up high enough to reach Johnny’s eyes.

“I do what I have to do.” Johnny tucks the knife away into his coat, then leans down, bracing a hand on the armrests on each side of Jaehyun, as if strapping him down isn’t enough of a cage already that he had to use his body instead. “But he’s coming for you. You’ll get to be free again. Look forward to that.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes at Johnny. “Doyoung wouldn’t give up the circus for me. He’s not coming. All you have in your hands now is a useless human.”

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Johnny sneers, and Jaehyun wants to recoil, but Johnny is too close and there’s nowhere for Jaehyun to hide. He settles for turning his head away, to try to distance them. “Humans really are too stupid for their own good.”

Then, Johnny’s right hand, the one with a familiar leather glove, grabs ahold of Jaehyun’s chin and jerks his head to face Johnny straight on. Jaehyun can feel the pressure on his head multiply tenfold.

Johnny’s eyes roam over Jaehyun’s features for a moment, a condescending frown settling on his lips. “I don’t understand why Doyoung would be interested in a pathetic human like you. Nothing but skin and bones.” He lets go, but with a sharp snap to his wrist that causes Jaehyun’s head to launch back and slam against the wall. “Has anyone told you that you are rather infuriating?”

Jaehyun can feel his legs going numb and his vision blurring. Johnny pushes himself off the chair and backs away, much to Jaehyun’s relief.

“Why do you even want to kill Doyoung?” Jaehyun says, a little disoriented, There’s something dripping out of the corner of his mouth that tastes oddly metallic. “He’s done nothing wrong—”

“_Nothing wrong,_” Johnny repeats with a cold laugh. When he faces Jaehyun again, his eyes glimmer with a hint of insanity. “Nothing wrong? He murdered my family. Pulverized them into dust and left me broken, with a baby brother to raise when I was hardly a child myself. I welcomed Doyoung into my family, gave him the luxury of a home he would have never gotten without me, and he _ destroyed _it.”

“I think it’s only fair for me to return the favor and destroy the family he loves as well.” Johnny slides his hands into the pockets of his coat, and somehow, that makes Jaehyun’s stomach churn uneasily. “An eye for an eye.”

“You bastard—” Jaehyun yells, and it rips through his throat, but he’s cut off when Johnny whips out the knife, its point pressing right against Jaehyun’s cheekbone. He pants heavily, unable to move.

“You better cooperate with me, Jaehyun. It’ll make everything just a little bit easier for you. One twist of this knife—” Johnny rotates his wrist, and Jaehyun can feel the sharp edge piercing into his skin. “—and you might as well be dead.”

“I’d rather that be my fate.”

“And it will be, if Doyoung doesn’t pay us a little visit soon.” Johnny drops his arm to his side, but the damage has already been done. He can feel a thin line of blood trace down his cheek and drip into his mouth, tasting like iron. Jaehyun lets his body drape forward in exhaustion, and only uneven breathing fills the silent air.

The heavy metal door at the opposite end of the room swings open, and for a brief moment, light floods the room and shines in Jaehyun’s eyes, the silhouette of a figure outlined by rays of yellow and white. A sun, and maybe, a glimmer of hope, until he opens his mouth.

“Doyoung still hasn’t sent a letter back.”

The door slams shut behind Haechan with a loud _ bang! _ and the room is shrouded in darkness once again. The click of Haechan’s heels against solid concrete echoes in Jaehyun’s ears, and he waits, holding his breath as they get closer and closer to him. When they stop, Haechan is standing right next to Johnny, the dim lighting illuminating half of his face, keeping his expression unreadable.

“He still has time,” Johnny says, not taking his eyes off Jaehyun.

“It’s almost showtime, and Doyoung never cancels a show. Someone could have a sword lodged in their stomach and he would still say ‘The show must go on.’ I’m not sure he’ll cancel, even this time, Youngho,” he says to the taller man. Jaehyun looks up at the unfamiliar name, just in time to see a smile stretching across Johnny’s face.

“Don’t worry, Donghyuck. He’ll show up.” Johnny brings his hand up again, placing the flat side of the knife against Jaehyun’s chin and tilting it up. “This one will make sure of it.”

When Jaehyun gives him no reaction, Johnny retracts the blade and purses his lips. “We’ll need to leave soon, though. I expect he’ll be coming sooner than you think.” Johnny starts walking away from him, back into the shadows towards the door. “Keep your little friend company for now. Okay, Donghyuck?”

Haechan scowls slightly. “He’s not my friend,” he replies, a little quieter.

Johnny places a hand on the doorknob and twists, cracking the door open. “Then prove it to me,” he says, and then the door slams shut behind him, and it’s just Jaehyun and Haechan.

It’s silent for a moment, Haechan staring at the door Johnny disappeared through blankly, unblinking. When he turns his eyes back to Jaehyun, they look cold, dead.

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at him and provokes, “I thought we were friends, Haechan.” Maybe he’s baiting the lion’s den, but he’s sure he has a better chance talking to Haechan than to Johnny.

“Like I said, Jaehyun, it’s nothing personal. You just happened to be associated with the wrong person. Doyoung has to pay.”

“What the hell did Doyoung ever do to you? Give you a home? A family? And this is how you repay him?” Jaehyun tries not to raise his voice, needing to keep the odds in his favor, but it’s hard not to.

Haechan laughs softly, showing emotion for the first time since he walked in. “Doyoung isn't my family. He doesn’t care about _ family_. I’ve known him for far longer than you have, Jaehyun. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about Doyoung, about me, about Youngho. It’s best if you just follow orders and don’t ask questions. Maybe then, you’ll be able to put all this behind you, go live a normal human life in the city or whatever mundane thing your heart may wish.”

“If you think I’m going to just sit back and watch you do this, you’re wrong,” Jaehyun spits.

“Then, you’re just as stupid as everyone else in the circus. You all praise Doyoung like he’s some sort of god, a savior that brought light to your lives, that gave you a home.” Haechan says, venom dripping in his voice. Jaehyun’s never heard him speak in such a way, but it seems natural for poison to perch on his lips. “Doyoung is nothing more than a puppet master, pulling you all along on a string. He promises to be your friend, to give you a home, and then one day, he goes and he _ takes _ from you. Do you know what it feels like to have everything stolen from you, Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun is silent, observing the figure in front of him. Haechan’s eyes are dark with hate, and his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. The boy in front of him is so different from the Haechan Jaehyun knows, the one who wakes up at the crack of dawn to say good morning to him and Taeyong in the kitchen, the one who launches himself onto Mark’s back when he least expects it, making the other boy smile in exasperation, the one who glows a million times brighter when in the company of his friends, the one who Jaehyun _ knows _ the circus considers family.

“So you would betray your friends, leave them behind, just to get at Doyoung?” he asks. He wonders what time it is, if they’ve started the show yet, how worried the rest of the circus must be, missing a crucial piece of their act, missing their brother.

Haechan frowns slightly and looks away for a second, but doesn’t hesitate to answer. “If that’s what it takes, then yes.”

_ How twisted, _ Jaehyun thinks, _ that his friends are probably worried sick about him when he speaks of them like this. _

Then, something clicks, and Jaehyun knows, there’s one thing that will make Haechan stop, and maybe even consider what he’s done.

“What about Mark?”

Haechan’s head snaps to Jaehyun, and there’s a brief moment of surprise, when he looks more like the boy that Jaehyun remembers. But that’s gone in an instant, replaced by a stinging across his cheek, and the sound of a slap that echoes through the room.

Haechan looks down at his hands for a moment, shock etched on his face. But, he quickly regains his resolve, turning back to Jaehyun with that dead look in his eyes.

Jaehyun knows he shouldn’t prod further, that he’s not only woken the lion, but now it also won’t hesitate to attack. Still, he can’t help himself. “Don’t you love him?”

“Family comes first,” Haechan says, but it’s a whisper more to himself, almost like he’s trying to convince himself of something. He takes a deep breath. “Family comes first,” he repeats.

“Haechan,” Jaehyun says, a little softer, “We’re your family.”

Haechan shakes his head, as if trying to clear it. “Not by blood. Youngho is my brother. He’s taken care of me since I was born. He’s sacrificed everything for me. _ He’s _my family,” Haechan says in a rush, looking down at the glove donning his left hand. Jaehyun connects two and two: they share the pair of gloves, a promise from each side of their brotherhood.

Jaehyun pities the poor boy in front of him, who is conflicted by the war that wages inside his head, and decides, finally, to stay silent. That, and he doesn’t think he can take another strike to the head without passing out altogether.

“There are things about the magical world that you just wouldn’t understand, Jaehyun. You don’t know who I am. I have to repay my brother, my _ family, _for all he’s done for me.” Haechan looks distraught, and Jaehyun knows the conversation is over. Haechan has moved on to a completely different headspace. They fall into an awkward silence, Haechan moving to sit up against the opposite wall, curling in on himself and hugging his knees to his chest. He’s so vulnerable, like an open wound waiting for infection. There must be something far deeper embedded in Haechan’s head that’s driving him away from his true family.

Maybe it’s only a few minutes, or maybe it’s a few hours, but soon the lock on the door clicks open, and Jaehyun is blinded by the light once again.

Johnny strides into the room, sparing a quick glance at Haechan, who scrambles to stand up, and crosses over to Jaehyun.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day.” Johnny smiles, looking genuinely happy, if not for the look in his eyes that flash a dangerous silver. “He’s on his way.”

Jaehyun stays silent, not wanting to dignify that with a response. He feels as if he’s about to combust.

“There’s a couple of safety precautions I’d have to take, however,” Johnny says, stretching out the fingers of his right hand before balling it into a fist. “This will only hurt a bit, but don’t worry. I’m sure you can get someone to patch you up later.”

Before Jaehyun can even properly register Johnny’s words, there’s a spike of pain that launches through his head like a spear when Johnny’s fist makes impact on his temple, and then Jaehyun’s plunged into the darkness.

The first thing Jaehyun notices when Haechan shakes him awake is that they’re outside, if the wet grass staining his knees are anything to go by, and he has to squint his eyes to adjust to the fiery orange haze on the horizon. The second is that his hands are still cuffed behind him, and that Johnny has a hand wrapped tightly around his forearm, keeping him in place. And the third is that there’s a silhouette approaching them from across the grassy field.

The pulsing in his head increases at every twitch he makes, and he’s so incredibly disoriented, that he doesn’t quite register what everything means until Johnny speaks.

“Well, Donghyuck, looks like you should’ve had more faith in your plan.” Johnny tugs on Jaehyun’s arm sharply to get his attention. “Look who’s decided to join us, Jaehyun.”

As the figure starts to get closer, Jaehyun sees the silhouette begin to take shape into the familiar cut of a body he’s grown friendly with. The black hair, sharp chin, long figure—it makes Jaehyun want to fall to the ground sobbing. 

“Doyoung?” His voice is barely a whisper. He must be dreaming. “Doyoung?” he says, a little louder, and the figure stops and turns to look at him, eyes gray and emotionless, lips set into a thin line. “Doyoung!” Jaehyun shouts, and jerks forward, struggling to escape from his confines, but Johnny tugs him back roughly by the chain of his handcuffs, the metal cutting into his wrists.

“Come on, Johnny, let him go,” Haechan’s voice pops up from behind him, timid, but almost annoyed.

As soon as Johnny unlocks his handcuffs, Jaehyun scrambles to his feet and sprints to Doyoung, grasping him by the shoulders. Every step makes his muscles scream and ache.

“Hey,” Doyoung, says softly, sadly.

“Are you out of your mind? Why are you here?” Jaehyun is frantic, delirious. This isn’t right. “You shouldn’t have come. I’m not worth it.” His fingers dig into Doyoung’s arms, enough to hurt, and Doyoung pushes Jaehyun’s arms down and holds his wrists lightly.

“Trust me,” is all he says, before he steps away from Jaehyun and starts walking towards Johnny.

“Doyoung!” Jaehyun clings to his arm tighter, trying his hardest to pull him back, to prevent him from making this stupid decision. “Doyoung, stop, _ please _ ,” he’s begging at this point, but Doyoung shakes him off and continues to walk forward, not even sparing a glance behind him. “You need to take care of the circus. Don’t throw it away for me.” Salt hits his tongue. He hadn’t even noticed he’s started crying. “Doyoung, _ please,_ I’m not worth it. I’m not worth it, don’t throw your life away for me. I’m not worth it, _ Doyoung, __I’m not worth it!_” Jaehyun screams through the tears, his voice raw and hoarse.

It’s as if his words get carried away in the breeze because they make no difference. His legs shake as they struggle to hold his weight.

“Shut him up,” Johnny barks, “Or I will.”

Doyoung finally turns around, making a beeline towards Jaehyun, strides long and purposeful. He grabs Jaehyun by the back of the neck and pulls him close, wrapping an arm around his waist and the other cradling his head. To Johnny, it looks like an embrace, a last goodbye, but the words harshly whispered in Jaehyun’s ear say otherwise.

“Jaehyun, I need you to listen to me. Go back to the circus, tell them not to worry about me. They need to move on, get to the next city quickly. If I’m not back within three days, don’t come looking for me.”

Jaehyun pulls away slightly to look at him. Something is off. That voice isn’t the same. It’s a little gentler, a little deeper, but he doesn’t know what it means. Maybe it’s just the hysteria hitting him that’s making him hallucinate a different person. “What? Doyoung, I’m not just going to leave you here.”

Doyoung unwraps his arms from around Jaehyun and grabs his hands. Jaehyun feels something small being pressed into his palms, Doyoung’s hands quickly moving to close his fingers before Johnny can see. “Trust me,” Doyoung says with finality, then turns away again.

Jaehyun drops to his knees, the pain and soreness in his body finally overcoming his will, and watches helplessly as Doyoung walks away from him.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You see, Jaehyun, things are so much easier when you just cooperate like Doyoung here,” Johnny says.

“You’ll let him go now, right?” Doyoung asks Johnny.

Johnny smiles a little too nicely. “Of course. That was my end of the deal after all. And I’m a man of my word.” Jaehyun drops his head in exhaustion, his breathing growing heavier. He can feel Johnny approaching him. “However,” Johnny says, stopping in front of Jaehyun, his figure blocking the last rays of the sunset. “I never promised to send him back in one piece.”

Johnny watches Jaehyun struggle helplessly to lift his head. Then, without warning, Johnny winds his leg back and sends a kick into Jaehyun’s stomach, and the force knocks him from his knees and onto his back. He hears something crack unpleasantly in his body.

Jaehyun slumps over onto his side, clutching his chest and gasping for air, his vision blurry. In front of him, he can vaguely see Haechan flinching in the background and Doyoung looking away from the sight. For a moment, he swears the tips of Doyoung’s hair flash aquamarine, but maybe it’s just a trick of the light.

“I’m sure someone will come looking for you,” Johnny says, voice light and pleasant. “Farewell, Jaehyun.” And, then he’s walking away, leaving Jaehyun bruised and broken.

Haechan follows after Johnny, but Doyoung lingers for a second behind them, staring at Jaehyun, debating whether to approach him or not. Quickly glancing behind him at Johnny and Haechan’s retreating figures, he runs over to Jaehyun and crouches beside him. He takes the object that had fallen from Jaehyun’s hand and slips it over Jaehyun’s wrist, pulling his sleeve down to cover it.

“Doyoung! Let’s go!” Johnny shouts at him.

A voice whispers in Jaehyun’s ear. “Give the ringmaster my regards,” he hears, and then Doyoung is standing up and leaving, truly leaving.

Jaehyun is in too much pain to notice the problem with that sentence, and focuses on trying to breathe for the next few minutes instead, the sun setting behind him. 

With strenuous effort, he manages to flip himself onto his stomach and prop his body back onto his limbs, but, still, they struggle to carry his weight. Something inside is definitely broken, for even breathing is a pain, only sharp and short huffs coming out from his mouth. He tries to lean back onto his knees, but his head is still spinning too quickly to process anything.

He shifts enough to place a foot flat against the ground, and braces his hands on his knee, using it as leverage to pick his entire body off the floor, but as he tries to take a step, he’s teetering to the side. Another, and he’s stumbling to the right until his legs give out and he’s back on the grass. 

It’s gotten darker, Jaehyun realizes, even in his pain-ridden haze. His skin prickles from the cold. Tears stain his face, and when he lifts a shivering hand to his mouth, he feels his swollen lip and blood trailing down his chin.

He closes his eyes in an attempt to conserve some energy, and prays to every god that may exist in the world, that he’ll see another day. He prays that one of them would have mercy on him, and then he slips into an unknown oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you can say Johnny did kick it ;)
> 
> find us on  
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	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sleep, Jaehyun. I’ll bring you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha so it's been a while... again. Hope everyone is doing alright in quarantine, here's another chapter to cheer up your day!  
(it's 2 am. why.)  
(also we projected this would be at 30k at this point)
> 
> Working title: it takes 14 chapters and 62k words for the main pairing to finally kiss

Jaehyun feels everything and nothing all at once.

It’s ice-cold, wet dripping down his face, soaking him through the bone. He can’t feel his limbs or the rest of his body. He only feels the way his chest is rising up and down on its own accord, trying its best to keep him alive. He can’t pry his eyelids open, no matter how much he tries to. There’s no energy left in him to use; all of it is going towards making him breathe. 

But it’s oh so cold, and Jaehyun just wants to curl in on himself, to keep the last of his body heat to himself rather than let the world take it away. He tries his absolute very best to move, to find shelter, something that will let him regain energy. He felt his finger twitch once, twice, but that’s all he could muster.

Maybe the fact that he’s conscious is a miracle enough. He’d rather not be, though. He doesn’t want to _ feel. _

The ringing in his ear begins, something that sounded like drip drops of water on mud. Rain, pouring endlessly around him, above him, on him, pounding him into the soil and grass. The droplets feel sharp on his cheeks. 

The constant pattering keeps Jaehyun sane for the moment. He can still hear, at least. But it’s disrupted by the faint sound of something squelching in the mud. It gets closer, louder, faster. The mud under him moved like waves, almost. And then, the movement stops. It’s back to just rain.

Oh, he can _ feel_. There’s a weight on his shoulder, another on his face, holding him. His body shakes with the motion of the weights. Hands. Fingers clutching his shoulder, a rough palm on his cheek, a thumb stroking the bone. 

“Jaehyun, can you— Can you hear me? Jae. Jaehyun. Oh, God have mercy.” 

Yes, he can hear. He can hear, and he can feel warmth soaking through him with the rain. 

The hand moves from his shoulder. He feels himself being shifted, and his head falls against an arm that’s propping him up, cradling him. 

“Jaehyun.” The fingers gently press to the back of his head. “Oh God, Jaehyun, what _happened_? Jaehyun, wake up… Please.”

He hasn’t ever heard this voice speak so tenderly to him. He’s heard it with confidence, with spite, with anger and defeat. But not with fear like this, not so prominent, how each word is so vulnerable and so easily shattered.

“Jaehyun. Jaehyun.” The voice rubs raw, grates against his ear, the more it says his name, it loses hope. “Jaehyun, I need you. Please, you can’t be gone.”

He finds the strength to take a deeper breath, if it’s to reassure the voice that he’s alive, but barely. But the breath crushes his lungs more than it fills. 

The hand on his chest clenches, and he feels himself being pulled further up. Something presses against his breastbone.

“Wake up, Jaehyun.”

The words fade on his skin. He feels them being uttered into his chest, over and over again, but it’s muffled, and there’s only the deafening beating of the rain. Hands grasp at his back desperately, pulling him close. And all of a sudden, it’s gone. The sensation of the hands, the body, the voice and rain, gone. 

There’s a surge of energy bursting through him to take place over the numbness, enough energy to rip him open by the seams because he cannot take so much life force all at once. One slow heartbeat pulses, then another, faster, until it’s switching his system back up. His eyes open as his body launches itself forward, and he feels like he’s bursting. 

“_Jaehyun_.”

Even without looking at him, he already knows it’s Doyoung, it’s Doyoung’s hands grappling onto his shoulder, Doyoung’s head leaning on his chest, Doyoung’s words uttered against his body like a prayer for him to survive. He sees matted black hair, but then he sees Doyoung’s wide eyes, his breathing just as ragged as Jaehyun’s. They stare, for a moment. Jaehyun can only imagine how bad he looks, for there’s red in the corner of his vision that could only mean blood. Doyoung’s hair is plastered to his forehead, alabaster skin even paler, Jaehyun sitting between his legs and holding onto Jaehyun for his dear life.

“Oh, Jaehyun. I thought you left. You just disappeared without warning. I thought you.”

Jaehyun’s head clears, for the first time in who knows how long. His breathing evens out a bit, but his chest aches more and more as he gains consciousness. But he remembers, he remembers the pulsing in his head when Doyoung was grasping his hand and whispering something about going home, leaving Jaehyun in the grass in a helpless heap. He knits his eyebrows together. It doesn’t make sense, how could Doyoung be here with him now still?

“Did he let you go? How did you escape, I—”

And just as he’s about to go on rambling, he’s cut off.

The rain doesn’t stand a chance against the warmth of Doyoung’s lips on his. Somewhere in the mix are tears, Doyoung’s hot tears falling onto Jaehyun’s cheeks and blending with the raindrops falling from the gray sky. He tilts his head, leans in closer, presses himself as close to Jaehyun as possible. And he’s so, so warm, that it makes Jaehyun believe that there’s a God that exists who has given him the chance to find Doyoung again.

Then he can feel Doyoung’s hands in his hair, fingers laced in the clumped strands. He pulls away, barely, just to dive back in with a different tilt to his chin. Doyoung’s hand lowers to brace Jaehyun’s neck, and to pull him in closer as if that is even possible.

Jaehyun’s not sure whether he’s ever imagined this, because it’s something he’s never expected. Never expected to hold Doyoung this close, because their relationship had always been so strained, a push and pull that could never quite reach equilibrium. He never thought Doyoung would have given in; Doyoung’s so adamant, so unchangeable, sealed in a jar that Jaehyun couldn’t crack open no matter how hard he tried. But now here he is, _ saving _ Jaehyun when he could have left him out to die, _ kissing _ Jaehyun like there’s no tomorrow.

Jaehyun hisses as a sharp pain bursts their bubble, and his hand flies up to touch the right side of his head as he breaks the kiss. When he retracts his hand and looks down at it, he’s surprised to see blood coating his fingertips. He looks over at Doyoung’s hands, only to see them covered in bright red as well, the rain that has started to wash it away swirling the blood into intricate patterns on his palms.

“Jaehyun, you’re really hurt.” Doyoung sits up, searching for the wound on the back of Jaehyun’s head with featherlight touches of his fingertips.

White, blinding pain strikes him, and Jaehyun falls limp in Doyoung’s arms for a moment, his head resting on Doyoung’s chest. He can hear his erratic heartbeat. Doyoung grasps at Jaehyun’s shoulder, trying to keep his body upright, to know for sure that Jaehyun is still alive, conscious.

“I’ll be alright,” Jaehyun manages to grit out. “I have to—”

“No, don’t talk. Or move. That’ll make it worse.” Doyoung lays a gentle kiss on Jaehyun’s forehead instead. He keeps one hand on Jaehyun’s neck as support and uses the other to rustle through his jacket. Finally, he produces a handkerchief from his breast pocket, then folds it to press against the back of Jaehyun’s head. “This will do for now.”

“Doyoung, listen to me.” Jaehyun blinks a couple times to rid of the red that dances across his vision. “It was Haechan.”

“What?”

“He caught me after you left. Knocked me out with a crowbar. Then I woke up and he was there with Johnny. But he called Johnny by ‘Youngho’, instead.”

Doyoung furrows his eyebrows. “He never goes by his real name,” he whispers to himself, barely loud enough for Jaehyun to hear despite being right in front of him.

“And Johnny kept calling Haechan, ‘Donghyuck.’ I’m not sure why.”

Doyoung’s eyes go glossy, and he looks past Jaehyun’s shoulder at the grass. “Dear lord, that boy. I can’t believe I never saw it. Fuck.”

The throbbing in Jaehyun’s head begins to subside ever so slightly, and his hand falls onto his stomach. The rain doesn’t fall as hard as before. 

“And you were there,” Jaehyun mumbles, his eyes closing. He’s tired, the energy draining out of him all of a sudden. “You were there, and you told me to go back to the circus.”

“Hush, Jaehyun, you’re exhausted.” Doyoung puts a hand on Jaehyun’s face, his thumb brushing Jaehyun’s cheekbone tenderly. “You can tell me when we get back home.”

Jaehyun manages to pry his eyes open one last time, and watches Doyoung through his eyelashes. He blinks, slow and lethargic. “I’m glad you found me, Doyoung.”

Doyoung chuckles, quiet, and he strokes his thumb over Jaehyun’s cheek again. “Sleep, Jaehyun. I’ll bring you home.”

When Jaehyun wakes up again, the bitter cold has long been replaced with warmth, enough to keep his body pumping correctly again. It’s also soft, whatever it is against his skin, that only makes Jaehyun want to sleep for another hundred years. He’s met with a dull pulsing in his head that prevents him from falling back into his deep slumber, however, so he opens his eyes, blinking slowly to get used to the light. It’s mild, not too bright, and he’s fully conscious in just a moment.

He turns his head so that his cheek rests against the pillow wedged under him, and finds Doyoung in a chair a short distance away. He’s asleep, his head lolled to one side, his breathing slow and relaxed. For the first time in a long time, he looks at peace. It’s when Jaehyun looks down, that he realizes his hand has been resting on Doyoung’s lap the entire time, trapped between Doyoung’s palms. 

He focuses on the rise and fall of Doyoung’s chest, a constant that draws Jaehyun into the reality he’s in, and he knows that he’s safe. He lets out a quiet, satisfied sigh and closes his eyes, intending to sleep some more while he can. Something tells him that once Doyoung’s awake again, there’ll be a nonstop influx of questions about the things he doesn’t quite want to relive.

But it seems that Jaehyun’s sigh was not quiet enough, because Doyoung’s eyes blink open, a little weary and tired. His hold on Jaehyun’s hand tightens for a moment, as if checking to make sure that Jaehyun is tangible, that he’s here and alive.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, his voice slightly cracked. He straightens up, stretching and rolling his shoulders from his uncomfortable sleeping position. He leans forward in his chair, propping his elbows on the edge of the bed and bringing Jaehyun’s hand to his brow, knuckles brushing the strands of hair that lie uncombed across his forehead. He looks so small by Jaehyun’s bed, so lost and afraid, grasping onto Jaehyun’s fingers. He mumbles something to himself, like he’s praying, before he manages out, a little louder, “I thought I lost you.”

Jaehyun lets out a laugh, even though it hurts his chest. “Well, you didn’t, and now you’re stuck with me all over again.”

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Doyoung pulls his head away from Jaehyun’s hand to properly observe his face. Jaehyun can only imagine how bad he looks: bruises that will take weeks to heal, scratches and cuts that’ll mar his skin into the years. Each time he breathes, something sharp prods at his lungs, but it quickly subsides to an uncomfortable pulsing that he can endure. He still makes a face, though, a grimace that frightens Doyoung into giving another reassuring squeeze to his hand.

“Jaemin tried to heal you again, but the runes refused to stay on your skin.” He reaches forward, and with a gentle finger, brushes Jaehyun’s bangs away. That’s when Jaehyun notices the bandages wrapped tightly around his own head. “He did his best. Nothing’s been going quite right recently. I think he’s gone back to tattooing Jeno as a stress reliever now.”

“It’s alright. I’ll get better eventually.” What that implies is left unaddressed.

Jaehyun’s breath hitches when Doyoung doesn’t pull his hand back, and it remains to cup Jaehyun’s cheek. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time…”

Jaehyun closes his eyes and relishes in the warmth of Doyoung’s hand. “But you did. That’s all that matters.”

“I suppose.” Doyoung hums, and too quickly, he drops his hand from Jaehyun’s face, but lets it rest in Jaehyun’s lap, for him to hold onto and play with. “What happened?”

Jaehyun sucks on his teeth, looking away from Doyoung and focuses on the calluses on his palms, running his own hand over the rough skin. “Johnny said you killed them.”

“Who?” Doyoung says, a little more insistent.

“His family. He said you killed them, and that’s why he wants revenge.” Jaehyun sighs, and with the tip of his index finger, he traces Doyoung’s star tattoo. It’s far more petite that he remembered it to be.

Doyoung frowns and mutters almost to himself, “I didn’t kill them. It was a freak accident.”

“Then why does he think you did—”

“It’s complicated,” Doyoung concludes. “I don’t know the truth myself.”

Jaehyun laces their hands together and returns a tight squeeze. “That’s okay. I trust you.”

A beat passes, before Doyoung asks, “What did he do to leave you like this, though?” He seems a little hesitant to hear an answer. Jaehyun’s head hurts trying to recall it, because the memory remains blurry, moments that passed too quickly for him to retain every detail. But as he describes what he could remember, it’s enough to get Doyoung’s blood boiling, for him to clench his jaw and tense his stature.

“I’m going to kill him the moment he steps even remotely near this circus—”

“Don’t, Doyoung. Don’t fight fire with fire.” Jaehyun brings Doyoung’s hand up to his lips, and presses a small kiss to his knuckles. “We’ll only get hurt.”

“I should have known that Haechan wasn’t who he said he was. He came out of _ nowhere_. I should have been able to tell.” Doyoung’s words become hurried, stumbling over each other like the children fighting to get in line for the cotton candy booth during intermissions. “If we didn’t let him in, we’d be _ safe_. But now you’re hurt, and they can find us. _ God_, how could I have been so—”

“Stop, Doyoung, please.” Jaehyun makes sure to catch Doyoung’s full attention first before proceeding. “You couldn’t have known. I think he _ was _ good. Something must have happened between then and now to make him want to leave and join Johnny, but _ it’s not your fault_.”

The fire in Doyoung’s eyes dies out, and he physically slumps forward, leaning into Jaehyun’s hold. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Jaehyun can only hum, unsure himself, but grasps Doyoung’s hand tighter.

Doyoung’s finger catches on something around his wrist, tugging on it without purpose until he furrows his brows, taking a closer look. 

Though dirtied, Jaehyun recognizes it as the same bracelet Doyoung has around his own wrist, frayed, almost falling apart. And it comes back to him. The way Doyoung’s hair had shifted into blues, his eyes wide and afraid and rounder than that of the Doyoung sitting in front of him, his hands thinner, softer, stuffing the bracelet into Jaehyun’s palm. 

He remembers, and at the same time, Doyoung realizes what it means.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung chokes out, his focus completely narrowed on Jaehyun’s wrist, afraid to take it off in case it _ does _ break, the last of his best friend perhaps diminished to only a knot of strings. “He took my place.” 

“He has a plan, Doyoung, he’ll get out alive—”

“Johnny’s not going to let him _ live _ when he finds out it’s not me.” Doyoung’s voice strains, his eyes are wet, and Jaehyun feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. There’s so much resentment in Doyoung, so much pent-up anger, that despite dampening the fire, it’s already sparked again.

“He knows how to escape, he’ll get out,” Jaehyun tries, again and again, but Doyoung’s losing himself, his eyes glossed over and distant, the only tether to reality is his hold on Jaehyun’s hand. Jaehyun reaches out, cupping his other hand on the back of Doyoung’s neck, tugging him into his orbit. “Doyoung, look at me.”

Jaehyun doesn’t want to lie. He doesn’t know if Taeyong will be able to get out alive, and he doesn’t know, ultimately, if Taeyong’s sacrifice will be worth his life. But he knows that he’s the only one who can keep Doyoung from making any irrational decisions that would make Taeyong’s sacrifice in vain. It’s his job now, to keep the circus safe.

“He was able to save me, Doyoung. I’m no Sicheng, but maybe there’s some intuition in me that tells me he’ll find us again, soon. He said in three days’ time. So we move on to a safer location, and he’ll find us, wherever we go.”

It’s enough for Doyoung to deflate, for him to be carved out of the concrete he’s drowning in. He’s calmed down enough that Jaehyun knows he won’t just run out to try and hunt Johnny down immediately.

“Three days,” Doyoung says with a sigh. “Three days, and then I’ll go find him myself.”

“Doyoung—”

“I can’t lose anything else to Johnny. I’ve given my freedom up already. He doesn’t deserve to take my family too.” Doyoung stands abruptly, Jaehyun’s hands falling away and to the bed. “Rest, Jaehyun.” He says it like a command.

Jaehyun can only watch helplessly as Doyoung turns his back on him, walking out of the car with hunched shoulders.

For the next day, Jaehyun sleeps, wakes up for some food, and sleeps some more, as per Jaemin’s orders. The pulsing in his head has long subsided, and breathing has become easier. He still feels far from healthy and normal, but there’s progress. 

“From how you’re healing, it looks like I’ll only have to change your bandages maybe once a day from now on,” Jaemin says as he snips off the excess gauze, tightening it slightly around Jaehyun’s head so it’ll stay in place. “The wound is scarring over already.”

“Thank you, Jaemin,” Doyoung says quietly. He’s been sitting in the chair by Jaehyun’s bed almost the entire time, which has boosted Jaehyun’s morale and energy level, enough to keep him awake to practice the idle shuffling trick Jisung had taught him. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t just heal you immediately,” Jaemin continues, guilt dripping in his words. “You’re just… different.”

“It’s not you, Jaemin. Don’t worry. You bandaged me up, and that probably saved my life already.” Jaehyun pats Jaemin’s arm reassuringly. “You’re doing great.”

“Alright, if you say so, boss.” Jaemin salutes to him, a smile already nagging at his lips, and Jaehyun notices a new image moving around his forearm, another tattoo of a bird, perhaps, shooting across his skin and around his arm, as if it’s racing time itself. Jaemin stores the medical supplies back in its box and heads towards the door, but just before he leaves, he turns his head back. “You have another visitor. You up for it?”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”

Jaemin pulls the door of the car open enough for him to exit and for the mystery visitor to enter. Something in the air immediately turns sour, dim.

“Doyoung, you said he’d be back by yesterday. There’s no sign of him anywhere. We’re already halfway packed up.” Mark’s words are urgent and filled with worry. “We can’t leave without him.”

Doyoung takes a deep breath, lacing his fingers together in front of him, laying them on his lap. Mark watches him intently, waiting, somehow still hoping for the best when the look on Doyoung’s face says otherwise.

“I don’t know where he’s gone, Mark.”

Mark stares at him for a moment, a little dumbfounded by the curt answer. Then, his eyebrows furrow, his hand tightening to fists by his side. “Liar.”

“Mark—”

“You know where he is, I can see it all over your face. Tell me. _ I’m _ the one who’s supposed to keep him safe.” Mark’s breathing hitches, and his voice drops, a little quieter. “I didn’t get to make amends before he disappeared.”

“I don’t know where he is, Mark, and that’s the truth.”

Jaehyun knows that’s the truth, in a literal sense, but Doyoung’s trying to hide his past despite it being covered by wax paper in front of a candle, now. Something is bound to burn.

Mark swallows hard, and he takes a couple steps further into the car and towards Jaehyun, who catches his eye in an attempt to placate him. It doesn’t work.

“Then who did this? Who ratted us out to Johnny? He _ must _be why Haechan and Taeyong are missing, I know it.” With each question, Mark breaks more and more, the weight on him pressing down harder and harder until he’s barely standing, a mere shell of a boy. “Who could have betrayed us?”

“How do you know it was Johnny—”

“It has to be him. He’s the only one targetting us. I just want to know which fucker gave him the information to infiltrate—”

Doyoung stands up abruptly, silencing Mark’s angry rambling. In a few short steps, he’s right in front of Mark, wrapping an arm around Mark’s shoulders and drawing him in for a hug.

Mark doesn’t fight it. He drops his forehead on Doyoung’s shoulder and lets out a heavy breath, his body curling into Doyoung, someone to shield him away from the intensity of the situation.

“I don’t want to lose him too,” Mark says quietly, some of his words caught in the sob that he tries so hard to hide. “I just want him by my side.”

He cries into Doyoung’s chest, body racked with bone-deep shakes, and Jaehyun has to look away when he meets Doyoung’s sad eyes. And Jaehyun waits, wondering if he’s going to tell Mark the truth about Haechan.

Minutes pass, and Mark’s crying turns into small sniffles, and he pulls away from Doyoung’s embrace, just enough so he can look the ringmaster in the eyes. “Doyoung, please tell me what happened to him. I don’t think I can live with myself if it was me that drove him away.”

“It wasn’t you, Mark.” Doyoung swallows. “He…”

There’s only desperation in the way Mark is looking at Doyoung as he waits for an answer. Doyoung keeps his mouth shut and grits his teeth together, which Jaehyun can see he struggles to do.

Mark turns to Jaehyun for a brief second, searching for a momentary weakness that could allow Mark to prod and get the response he so desperately needs. But there is none. The air crackles with fire, with Mark’s anger surrounding him in a cloud.

“Fuck you, Doyoung. _ Fuck you_.” Mark’s accusing finger flies at him, and he’s shaking all over again, his eyes red and puffy and freshly replenished with tears. “I can’t fucking believe I wasted my childhood being here with you when you don’t even trust us after _ five fucking years_. I’m done with this.”

Mark spins on his heel, storming out of the car with another series of curses under his breath, and almost immediately, the lack of his presence allows the air to clear, more tranquil, no longer filled with hostility.

Doyoung lets out the breath he’s been holding and falls forward onto his knees, kneeling by the edge of Jaehyun’s bed. He buries his face into his hands, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eyes. Jaehyun reaches out, placing a hand on his hair, smoothing the strands down.

“I hate lying to them so, so much,” Doyoung says in a whisper. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

Jaehyun moves his hand to Doyoung’s neck, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. It’s not his fight, and he knows not to meddle. But he does know from his years writing news stories that the truth will always be what people want, and what people want, they will get. “Then don’t lie anymore. They deserve the truth. They deserve to know what they’ve gotten themselves into.”

“That might ruin everything.”

“Everything you do is to protect your family.” Jaehyun keeps his touches tender, and Doyoung drops his hands from his face. Never has Jaehyun seen Doyoung so defenseless. “I think if you tell them about whatever _ this _is, it’s just another way to protect them.”

“I’m afraid, Jaehyun. I don’t know what’ll happen.”

Jaehyun smiles, a small, sad smile. “That’s a risk worth taking for them, Doyoung.”

A beat passes, everything is silent and it’s just Doyoung looking through a haze at Jaehyun. And then Doyoung mumbles, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Jaehyun lets his eyes fall close when Doyoung presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

Doyoung reluctantly leaves later that afternoon to help pack up the rest of the circus, with a promise to come back with dinner for Jaehyun later. After shooing him out, Jaehyun lays back against the plush pillows and relaxes, eyes lazily scanning around the room. Something old and familiar catches his eye from across the room. There, on top of the wooden desk by the door, sits the large map that he had seen that first day he’d visited the circus, curling up at the corners slightly. _ This must be Doyoung’s room, _ he realizes.

It’s a lot larger than his own room, he notes, but it could also just be because his car is divided up into smaller sections to be shared with seven other boys. The rest of the space is fairly simple: aside from the desk and chair near the door, there’s a small dresser, a few unopened packages stacked precariously in the corner, probably from Xiaojun’s shop if Jaehyun guesses, a nightstand, and the bed, which Jaehyun notes with a frown is the only one there in the car. He hopes Doyoung hasn’t been sleeping on the floor or in the chair for the past two nights while he slept on the bed. He’ll have to bring it up with him later.

Jaehyun’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears the grinding sound of metal as the door slides open.

Chenle’s blonde head appears in the opening, smile wide as he climbs in. “Jaehyun! You’re awake!”

“Hi, Chenle.” Jaehyun beams at him, opening his arms for a hug.

Chenle rushes towards him, and behind him someone shouts, “Chenle! Be gentle. Doyoung said he’s still recovering.” Just before he barrels into Jaehyun, Chenle jumps and shifts midair into a yellow tabby cat, the same shade as his hair, landing gently on Jaehyun’s lap. Jaehyun laughs quietly, still mindful of his own ribs, and strokes Chenle's soft fur.

Jisung steps into the car, and upon seeing the cat on Jaehyun’s lap, breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Hello to you too, Jisung,” Jaehyun says cheerily.

“Hi, Jaehyun.” Jisung walks over to the bed and grabs Chenle around the middle, cradling the cat to his chest. The cat’s claws extend to catch on the covers over Jaehyun in a meager attempt not to get picked up. “Chenle, don’t bother him.”

The cat only meows and paws at his face in protest.

“Come on Chenle, shift back,” Jisung says, trying to push the paws off of his face, winching as he does so.

In a second, the cat becomes a boy again, and Jisung stumbles slightly with the shift in size, placing his hands on Chenle’s waist to steady them. The paws on Jisung’s face turn into soft hands that cradle his cheeks, which are rapidly reddening.

“Were you getting jealous?” Chenle teases.

“What? No, I—” Jisung’s words are cut off by Chenle quickly pecking him on the lips.

Jisung flushes a bright red. “What was that for?”

“Nothing.” Chenle grins. “You’re just cute. Right, Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun smiles at the pair. “Of course.”

Chenle sticks out his tongue at Jisung. “See Sungie? Jaehyun agrees, so I’m right.”

Before the two can start bickering again, Jaehyun clears his throat and asks, “What have you two been up to?”

“Oh, right!” Chenle disentangles himself from Jisung and moves to sit on Jaehyun’s bedside, dragging Jisung along by the wrist. He pushes down his sleeve and shoves his arm in front of Jaehyun’s face. “Look!” 

Rather than pale, smooth skin, Jaehyun sees a new design that has been etched along the inside of his wrist of a little top hat drawn with thin black lines.

“You got a new tattoo,” Jaehyun observes.

Chenle then grabs Jisung’s wrist and places it next to his, showing off the identical hat on his wrist, save for two tiny rabbit ears sticking out of the opening. Jaehyun watches with fascination as the tattoo comes to life, the rabbit first peeking its head out of the hat, nose twitching, then hopping out. It circles around the hat a few times, then jumps in a line across Jisung’s wrist towards Chenle’s, bouncing onto the other’s from Jisung’s, and then into the other hat. The rabbit sinks down into the hat, and then their tattoos are still again, the only difference being two rabbit ears sticking out of Chenle’s hat this time instead of Jisung’s.

“That’s really nice,” Jaehyun praises with a smile.

“Jaemin did it,” Jisung says. “We were bored without you here, so Chenle came up with this.”

“Now, just because he’s back doesn’t mean you can pester him all you want again,” a voice pipes up from outside.

Jaehyun can’t help but smile some more when he greets Ten walking into the car. “Hello, Ten.” 

“Glad to see you aren’t dead, Jaehyun.” Ten turns to address the other two boys, shooing them away. “If you’re done eating dinner, go pack up and be a little more productive.”

“But Ten—” Chenle protests.

“You’ve had your fun already. Go pack up.”

After some mumbling and grumbling under their breaths, the boys leave, and Jaehyun tells Ten, “It’s okay, I don’t mind them.”

“Maybe, but Doyoung and Jaemin said you’re supposed to rest, and the two of them can get rowdy really quickly,” Ten says, pulling the desk chair next to the bed and sitting on it. He crosses his legs and leans back comfortably, making himself at home.

“Well, I’ve been bedridden for three days. Some visitors and excitement is nice. What’s going on out there?” Jaehyun asks.

Ten frowns at that. “I don’t know. Doyoung hasn’t told us anything. I’m assuming we’re leaving because Doyoung said to pack up, but Haechan and Taeyong are still nowhere to be seen.”

Jaehyun’s eyes fall to his own wrist instinctively. Ten follows his eyes, and grabs Jaehyun’s wrist roughly when he sees what’s around it.

“Where did you get this?” Ten looks up at him in shock.

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything.

“You saw him. Where is he?” Ten asks again. He presses down on Jaehyun’s wrist unknowingly, and Jaehyun winces slightly in response.

Ten loosens his grip and lets Jaehyun’s arm fall from it.

“Sorry, just—” Ten stops, and presses his mouth into a thin line. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go find Doyoung.” He stands abruptly, the chair making a noise as it slides back against the floor, and exits the room quickly.

A moment of silence passes where Jaehyun lies back on the bed, a hand wrapped around the wrist with the bracelet, pulling gently at the loose strings.

“Ten, hey.” Jaehyun hears Doyoung faintly from the inside, but still clearly audible.

“Doyoung. Where is Taeyong?” he hears Ten say, a little accusing.

“Ten—”

“Where is he?” he repeats more forcefully.

There’s a pause that Jaehyun knows is Doyoung’s hesitance speaking. “Johnny has him,” Doyoung finally says with a sigh.

“Doyoung, what the fuck? Why aren’t we going after him? He could be _ dead _ already. Why didn’t you tell us—”

“Because I knew you would overreact!” Doyoung snaps. “I’m just as worried as you are, Ten, but there’s nothing we can do right now. Taeyong said that he’d be back in three days. Three days, and then we leave.”

“It’s _ been _ three days since Jaehyun came back, Doyoung. Where is he?”

“Not yet. We still have a few hours till midnight. We can wait, but if he’s not back by then, then I’m sorry, Ten, but we have to leave him behind.”

Only heavy breathing fills the air for a moment.

“You would leave our brother behind?” Ten says, incredulous. But there’s a hint, a little part in him that wants to question his trust in Doyoung.

“Taeyong’s smart, he knows what he’s doing. He can get out of there,” Doyoung tries to reassure him. It doesn’t seem to work too well on Ten.

“And what about Haechan? Where’s he? Did Johnny take him too?”

Doyoung pauses. “I can’t say.”

“What does that _ mean_? Why can’t you tell me, Doyoung?” Ten is shouting now. “Maybe I accused him a few days ago, but I hoped it wasn’t true, for all of our sakes, and especially Mark’s. Why did I have to see Mark come to dinner with red eyes? Are you going to tell me I was right, or are you going to just leave me in the dark again, like that night in the alley? I’ve been quiet about Johnny for _ four years_, Doyoung, since that night, and you still won’t tell me what’s going on. I want _ answers._”

“Ten, trust me, please,” Doyoung pleads, and Jaehyun can hear that the vulnerable part of him has arisen yet again.

“It’s getting harder and harder to do that, Doyoung,” Ten says with a harsh sigh. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Then, Ten’s gone, the sound of his footsteps carried away by the breeze that blows by. Jaehyun hears Doyoung take a deep breath before stepping into the room, only to see Jaehyun already staring in his direction.

“Did you hear that?” he says, with a crooked smile. Jaehyun nods.

Doyoung exhales and takes Ten’s former seat next to Jaehyun’s bed. He rests his head in his hands, rubbing at his face.

Jaehyun reaches forward to pull Doyoung’s hand away from his face, interlacing their fingers instead. “I don’t know what’s going on, Doyoung, but I think you need to tell us. You need to let us help you.”

“I know, I just don’t want to disappoint them, or you.” Doyoung looks up into Jaehyun’s eyes. “You don’t know who I am, Jaehyun. I’ve done some bad things.” He says it so quietly, like he’s afraid of saying it out loud.

“Then you need to make it right. And you can start by telling us. We’re a family, Doyoung. Families support each other. They’re going to support you. And I’m going to be by your side the whole time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” Doyoung says. “I think it’s time.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun repeats, already throwing back the covers and slowly moving to stand up. “Let’s go.”

Everyone’s gathered in the tent, all with mixed reactions. Sicheng’s face is grim, as if he’d already predicted something big is about to happen, eyebrows knitted as he runs a nervous finger over his rings. Ten is still fuming slightly, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a line as he waits. And Mark is looking anywhere but at Doyoung, staring at the ground as if the dirt would give him more answers than Doyoung ever could. The others all sit patiently, looking at Doyoung, who’s standing in front of them, waiting for him to say something.

From his spot seated right in front of Doyoung, Jaehyun gives him a small nod.

“I’ve lied. For a long time. I’m not defending myself against it, but you deserve to know the truth now that Johnny has become an immediate danger to us.” 

Everyone’s attention is on Doyoung, waiting expectantly, _ listening. _

“I’ll have to tell you from the very beginning.”

The night is still. The owls don’t hoot, the wind doesn’t blow, and the clouds don’t move across the sky. The stars stretch their rays out towards the earth, and the moon turns its face to watch. The world sits quietly, listening, and inside a circus tent in the dead of the night, a ringmaster takes a deep breath, and begins to tell his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for everyone who believed in dojae. If you haven't already seen the backhug, here you go: [food for thought](https://twitter.com/today_jaedo/status/1242729434089697281?s=20)  
ALSO, #KICKIT1STWIN just got announced literally as we published this, SO IT'S A WINWIN FOR US TODAY!!! CONGRATULATIONS BOYS!
> 
> find us on  
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	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you, Doyoung. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i accidentally sold my soul to the devil to finish this in like three days and now i’m about to pass out lol. plz enjoy, i worked very hard on this.  
-johnshuaa
> 
> Working title: Boy tries scones for the first time. You’ll never believe what happens next!

The mansion sits atop the hill as a king does whilst overlooking his citizens: regal, expensive, untouchable. On the hill, it rises above the rest of the city on its unreachable plot of land, simply standing tall and beautiful, surrounded by sprawling grass fields and high fences. The tallest willows hide the sides of the estate from the public, dangling teardrop leaves wrapping themselves around the brick in a protective embrace. But it’s a paradox, the house. It so desperately tries to hide itself away from the world with its layers upon layers of protection, when it could have easily laid itself in some secluded forest away from prying eyes instead.

Maybe this is its purpose. To display that it is infamous, dangerous, and alone, but still insanely powerful. That’s what the Seos are known for, all across the country, anyways.

Magic brews and ferments and outlasts its captors. It grows, it can only grow because magic can become infinite if it really wants, but for the sake of humanity, it learns to control itself just a little bit. But when it finally decided to restrain itself, it was too late. People are still greedy, people are still hungry, and they want this magic to grow for themselves. 

That was when humans became afraid. That was when humans decided to shut the magic out and lock it away to stay safe. They didn’t know that their efforts would be fruitless in the end.

“If you want to prove that you’re brave enough to be friends with us, then you have to go up to that mansion on the hill and knock on it. And bring back a branch of the willow tree as proof.” The boy sneers, his friends surrounding him in a semi-circle, a row of defense. “Bring it to us without dying, and we’ll consider.”

Doyoung gulps, his eyebrows knitting together when he glances over his shoulder to look at the mansion. Is it really worth it, to risk his life for a few meager companions that’ll just use him for bait on their dangerous ventures around town? 

Doyoung is typically more rational than this. But he’s been so _ lonely. _ He craves friendship, above anything, because he’s been on his own for too many years already, always missing a mother’s soft touch and a father’s proud smile. Not missing. _ Dreaming. _

It hurts him physically, an uncomfortable sharp pounding in his chest, to agree to the proposition, and it hurts even more when he sets off towards the hill, hearing the boys guffawing at how desperate Doyoung is. But he knows this, and this only: it will give him the opportunity of having friends, no matter how horrible they are. It’s something in a world of nothing.

And he himself thinks, it is dismal. He so easily gives in. He has nothing left to lose besides his own mortality.

Every step sends a tingle through his body, only magnified as he gets closer and closer to the mansion. The building itself, so large in comparison to a young, scrawny boy like Doyoung, is intimidating. As the path up the hill turns into stone steps, he can see how worn out the walls are, cracked and faded from weathering, yet still elegant. Aging like fine wine.

The mansion itself stands two stories high, with tall marble columns framing the front entrance like guards. Leading up to the massive double doors is a curving path that extends all the way past the fencing around the estate to the outside world, which Doyoung continues to follow. As he approaches the metal gate, he notices the luscious bushes and flowers covering most of the front yard. It almost makes him wonder how such a place, which has been rumored to house a family of ghosts, the undead, and night creatures, could possibly keep their vegetation so green and healthy. Maybe they’re all wrong, those rumors. Maybe the family that lives here is simply shy and unwilling to meet new people. Maybe it’s just—

Doyoung hears something creak and immediately dives around the corner of the brick fence. His breathing is heavy, and he presses his body as close to the wall as possible, as if that would somehow make him invisible.

He hears footsteps getting closer and closer to him. Doyoung sucks in a breath and holds it.

“I thought we agreed that past the fence is out of bounds!” The voice of a young boy calls out. “I can sense that you’re here!”

Doyoung feels like his heart is about to burst through his ribs to run away to safety. His hands shake, braced against the wall, when the padding of feet against grass becomes louder. He finally accepts his doom. He probably should have known this would happen, anyways.

He shuts his eyes as tight as he can and prays that whoever it is that finds won’t decide to kill him on the spot.

“Oh. Hello.”

Doyoung is scared to open his eyes again, but something about the way the air around him seems to warm up tells him that he’ll be okay, so he takes his chance.

The boy in front of him is taller, stronger, more healthily built than Doyoung, but likely around the same age with the softness of his jawline and boyish features. He has on a button-up, white and unwrinkled, something Doyoung has seen the students of the expensive preparatory school wear when they stroll past the orphanage on their way downtown. He doesn’t have the fancy golden crest embroidered to his pocket, however. Instead, he wears the shirt with a hint of rebellion, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, an extra button popped open at his neck, one side of his collar flipped up messily. Despite his untidy appearance, it’s still ten times fancier than Doyoung’s own clothes: a dirtied shirt, pants torn at the knees, hand-me-down boots, and a dusty newsboy cap.

“I wasn’t really expecting this to be _ you. _” He smiles crookedly, revealing a gap in his grin from a missing tooth. “I was looking for my cousin.”

Doyoung only blinks with wide, fearful eyes. The boy blinks back, just as unsure.

“Are you here to bring my parents something?” he questions, a hand going to the back of his neck to scratch awkwardly. “Because they usually don’t like people actually going through the gate. Better leave it over by the mailbox.”

Doyoung’s mouth falls open, glancing past the boy to look at the entrance to the property. Then, he shakes his head furiously. His hands are empty, after all. There’s no chance he’d be able to even sneak past to get that willow branch, especially with the boy knowing of his presence.

“Do you know how to…” The boy appears to grow even more awkward, his cheeks dusted with pink as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, uncertain of what to say next. “Can you talk?”

Doyoung nearly chokes on his own embarrassment, feeling his face heat up. He nods again instinctively, before managing, “Yes, yes. I know how to talk.” His voice is squeaky, and he doesn’t really believe he _ can _ speak. 

The boy takes a moment to study Doyoung unabashedly, eyes scanning him up and down, probably criticizing his too-thin figure and the unflattering clothes that hang off of him as if he were trying to dress up as a ghost for Halloween. There might even be grime all over his face from when the boys forced him to crawl into the manhole to retrieve their lost ball during recess.

Doyoung realizes that he hasn’t stated his intention yet, but as he’s about to open his mouth to answer, he falters. The reason he’s _ here _ isn’t one that’ll get him out of this predicament. In fact, if the boy finds out the real reason and tells his parents, Doyoung would probably be locked up in his room for a week straight. He’s not sure if he can survive another week alone like that. 

But the boy doesn’t ask Doyoung again. Instead, he extends a hand to him. His palm is smooth to the touch when Doyoung takes it. “My name is Youngho Seo. This is my family’s home.”

“It’s an impressive home,” Doyoung replies, more focused on making sure that there he didn’t accidentally leave even a speck of dust on Youngho’s hand. That doesn’t fit him. Youngho looks so prim and proper that Doyoung feels like he should cower just standing beside him. “I’m Doyoung.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Youngho says with a dazzling smile, one that Doyoung is sure would have made the girls at his school swoon. “I’m assuming you’re the new delivery boy. It’s a mighty long trek to get here by foot.”

Doyoung furrows his eyebrows. “I— No, that’s not—”

“Youngho, get inside before your mother finds you!”

The two turn their heads to the gate, where a blonde girl in a pale yellow dress has her hands wrapped around the metal bars, head pressed to the gate to glimpse through it. She has a curious expression on her face that morphs into worry when she notices Doyoung over Youngho’s shoulder.

“You know you aren’t supposed to go past the border...”

Youngho brings a finger to his lips, shushing her. “Luna, you’re going to make a scene if you talk too loud—”

Doyoung can’t see Youngho’s face with his back turned, but something shifts in the atmosphere, and something akin to fear fills the space. 

“Youngho, may I ask you why you’ve disobeyed your father’s _ clear orders _ not to leave the gate unlocked when you leave?”

Youngho visibly slumps with relief at that. A young man in a cream shirt tucked into dark pants appears by Luna, his eyebrow quirked at the two boys outside.

“Why must you always scare me like this?” Youngho retorts, a laugh escaping his lips when the man puts on a sly smirk. 

“Why must you always push your luck with your parents?” The man reaches around to pull on the gate, letting it creak open. “They’re growing gray hairs because of you.”

Youngho only shrugs. 

Doyoung watches hesitantly. This distraction would give him the perfect opportunity to leave, pretend he never encountered the inhabitants of the mansion. He’s sure he can find another tree branch elsewhere to act as proof. But he realizes it’s too late when Luna tugs on the hem of the man’s shirt, and he leans down for her to whisper into his ear.

Doyoung makes sure to hide behind Youngho the best he can, which isn’t too difficult considering how much taller Youngho is in comparison. Youngho, without turning back towards him, reaches into the pocket of his slacks to produce a wrinkled envelope, shoving it in Doyoung’s direction. Doyoung takes it, confused.

“Do you have someone to invite in? You know it’s impolite not to.”

Something in Doyoung’s stomach drops. His grip on the letter loosens, and he nearly drops it when a breeze rushes by. 

“Taemin…”

The man only opens the gate wider in response. Youngho looks back at Doyoung, and he seems nervous, gnawing at his lower lip. He takes one more glance at Taemin before saying, “If my parents ask, you’re the delivery boy. Hold onto the letter.”

Then, Youngho leads the two through the gate and into the private estate.

Doyoung feels as if he’s just stepped into a storybook. The stone-paved path leads up to the front entrance, but splits into thinner trails winding through the rows of flora, each extending to the depths of the garden into some magical fairytale land. The four of them step up onto the porch, framed by looming white columns. The double doors swing open on their own accord, and as Doyoung walks past them, he notices the etching in the dark wood, detailed symbols and images that have no meaning to him.

Never did he think that he would even have the _ chance _ to come in such close contact with the manor, much less be invited in. It had been a distant beauty, a mystery never meant to be solved, but now he’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the gigantic hanging chandelier, its crystalline strands dangling like stars from the ceiling. He scans the room in awe. The foyer itself could fit a hundred people; he can hardly imagine how many more rooms are spread across the entire mansion. 

“So… Welcome to the Seo Manor, I guess,” Youngho says, gesturing around with an arm. “We don’t show people around often. I’m not sure what the courtesy is for visitors.”

Luna surges forward, running up the grand staircase until she’s halfway to the top. She leans off the banister, glancing down at the rest of them with a furtive smirk. “I’m telling Auntie Yoona about him,” she sing-songs.

“Don’t you dare!” Youngho yells, only to have Taemin placate him with a hand on his shoulder, and he deflates.

“Luna, please don’t be irrational—” Taemin starts.

“What is it that Luna is going to tell me?”

Their eyes all fall to the source of the voice, coming from the open entrance leading to a lavish living room to the left of the foyer. A woman approaches, heels clicking against the marble floor, eyes sharp. Doyoung’s left to wonder why one would need to wear a full, floor-length dress and have gold jewelry hanging off of their wrists and hands even though they are clearly only lounging around at home.

Before Luna can say anything, the woman stops abruptly, eyes trained on Doyoung yet again hiding uselessly behind Youngho. He could probably disintegrate on the spot if he were in her direct line of sight because of how intense her gaze is. His hands clench around the letter. It’ll be a poor excuse to use with how crinkled it is by now.

“You should have let me know we’d be having a guest over today.” The smile on her face seems strained. “I would have had the cleaners come in.”

Every click echoing through the room amplifies tenfold the closer she gets to Doyoung. But instead, she approaches Youngho, putting a hand on the side of his neck. Doyoung can see the large diamond ring on her finger, dazzling from the streams of sunlight rushing through the large glass windows bordering the front door.

“Excuse the dust, darling,” she says, glancing over Youngho’s shoulder to meet Doyoung’s eyes. She smiles at him, but it lacks warmth. “Taemin can show you to the sitting room. I’d just like to have a quick word with Youngho here, and he’ll be right with you.”

Youngho can only nod and send Doyoung a nervous smile before he follows the woman across the foyer.

When Doyoung glances up at the staircase, Luna is sitting on the steps, chin perched in her palms, sticking her tongue out at Youngho. Then, she stands, sprinting up to the second floor and disappearing around the corner.

After tucking the letter into his pocket, Doyoung laces his fingers together, resorting to shifting his weight side to side, hesitant on what to do. Taemin has an eyebrow quirked, his toes tapping against the floor for a few counts. He freezes all of a sudden, and without addressing anyone in particular, says aloud, “I’m curious what she’s telling Youngho. I’m going to go listen.”

Without a second glance, he heads in the same direction as the two quietly. Before he can be seen, however, he ducks to the side, pressing himself against the wall.

“What did I get myself into,” Doyoung mumbles to himself, before he’s sneaking after Taemin.

When Doyoung’s close enough, Taemin pulls Doyoung closer to the wall and says under his breath, “Good choice. I knew I liked you.”

“Youngho, you know we’ve established rules in this household that are meant to be followed. Strictly.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mother.” It’s not Youngho’s fault, Doyoung knows this. It’s Taemin, for letting him in, Luna, for finding them, _ Doyoung_, for being stupid enough to go to the mansion in the first place.

“It could have been far worse if it was any other person.” There’s a sigh. “But from what I can tell, he’s harmless.”

“I don’t want to bring danger to the family.”

“I know you don’t. You’ll learn how to be more careful as you grow up. But for now, you have me and your father protecting you, you know that?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Good. Now, I’d like to understand how you met this boy in the first place. He couldn’t have just magically appeared here out of nowhere. He’s human.”

They hear shuffling, and then a squeak, sounding as if the two have settled on the couch. Doyoung strains to listen.

“He’s the… new delivery boy.”

“Is that so?” She sounds incredulous.

“I see him every week or so. Taemin said he could join us today.”

Youngho’s mother hums quietly in response. When Doyoung looks up, he sees Taemin wince at the mention of his name.

As if he just realized his mistake, Youngho adds, “I’ve been begging him to give me permission. He probably just became sick of my nagging. It was rude of me.”

“It’s alright, Youngho. You understand why we keep so _ private _ with our family matters. I’ll need to bring this up with your father, but you don’t need to apologize again. I’m ecstatic that you’re making new friends.”

Doyoung can practically hear the smile in Youngho’s voice. “Thank you, Mother.”

“And I know you also understand to never take him up to the West Wing. You yourself should never go up there either.”

“Yes, you’ve told me a million times, Mother.”

“Just making sure, darling. Anyways, Sehun should be back from boarding school in a few months. You’ll be able to have an entire entourage for your birthday, if you’d like.”

“No thanks. Sehun is annoying.”

“You won’t be saying that once he leaves again next year.” The two of them laugh, and for some reason, it makes Doyoung ache. “Now, go see your friend. I’ll stop by with a proper introduction later.”

Before he hears Youngho’s response, Doyoung is being dragged by the wrist, rounding the staircase to the hallway just behind it. A couple more sharp turns, and he finds himself being thrown onto a plush couch. Taemin lets out a loud exhale next to him, laughing as he collapses into the pillow. “That was a close call.”

Doyoung barely registers Youngho joining them in the room, falling on the other side of Doyoung. He throws an arm over his eyes and groans.

“Taemin, all you do is get me in trouble. I can’t believe you. My cousins torment me enough.”

“Once Donghyuckie is old enough to talk back, I’ll tease him instead and you’ll be off the hook. Give it a few more years.”

Youngho groans again before he finally sits up. Doyoung follows suit and watches him lean forward to grab a scone off of the tray on the coffee table. 

“My mother’s going to want to spruce you up if you stay…” Youngho says despite his full mouth. “I’m sorry about getting you into this mess.”

“It’s alright,” Doyoung says quietly. 

Youngho takes another scone and offers it to Doyoung, who takes it gratefully. “I suppose it means you’re welcome here any time, from what she is suggesting.”

“It’ll be nice to have another young boy running around the house, as if we don’t have enough of those already.” Taemin lets out an exasperated sigh.

Doyoung munches on his scone, unsure of how to respond. It seems that they’re at least sitting in comfortable silence, despite meeting each other barely an hour ago. Still, he feels out of place sitting there between Youngho and Taemin on a couch that probably costs enough to feed him for the rest of his life.

Youngho clears his throat, angling himself towards Doyoung. His dark brown hair is unkempt, sticking out in different directions. “Since you’ll be visiting more now, I’d like to formally ask you to be friends.”

Taemin snorts, but hides it by stuffing a cookie into his mouth.

“I’ve never had a real friend before…”

“Me neither,” Youngho laughs. “We’re a good fit, then.”

“No, you’re both pitiful children,” Taemin corrects and gets an elbow in the chest in response. 

The two share stories with each other, little facts and hobbies about themselves. Doyoung tells Youngho about the dare that the boys from school gave him, and Youngho plucks a rose from the vase on the table, suggesting for Doyoung to bring that instead of the willow branch. 

Youngho talks about his family, about his many cousins that always stop by to stay for a couple weeks, but never long enough. All he has is his brother, who’s hardly two years old as of now, so it’s difficult for them to play. He recommends games for the two of them for the next time Doyoung visits, when Youngho can show Doyoung all the nooks and crannies hidden around the house. His excitement bleeds into Doyoung, and he can’t help but smile.

For once, Doyoung feels like he’s appreciated. Years at the orphanage have drained his hope, but one short conversation with Youngho has refilled it. He wants to be here _ forever _. 

Their talking is interrupted by knocking on the frame of the archway leading into the sitting room. Youngho’s mother has a toddler braced against her hip, followed by a man who Doyoung could only assume to be Youngho’s father.

Doyoung can feel the air being sucked out of his lungs, the comfort he had built up immediately taken away from him with the presence of the rest of Youngho’s family.

The man smiles at Doyoung, a heartwarming smile that does some to alleviate Doyoung’s nervous energy. He’s in a full pinstripe suit, except without the jacket, but still far too formal for casual wear. Doyoung’s self-consciousness is back again, and he haphazardly tugs at the hole in his trousers.

“Doyoung, very glad to meet you, young sir!” His voice booms, deep, hearty, as he stretches his arms to Doyoung for a strong handshake. “I’m Youngho’s father. Call me Mr. Seo.”

This time, when Youngho’s mother approaches with whom Doyoung assumes to be Donghyuck in her arms, she has a far warmer smile, soft and gentle. She settles on the couch opposite to the three boys, pulling Donghyuck into her lap. He lets out a bubbly laugh when she breaks apart a scone for him to eat.

“Doyoung, where do you live?” Youngho’s mother asks, but it’s not accusatory, just genuine curiosity.

It still makes Doyoung anxious to answer, though. He glances down at the dirt trapped in his nails; he’s never been given enough time in the washroom to properly scrape it out.

“He lives in the orphanage in town,” Youngho answers instead. 

“That’s quite a long way to get here, then,” Mr. Seo comments. He pours himself a cup of tea as he settles by his wife’s side on the sofa. “We’ll have the chauffeur drive you back home tonight. I wouldn’t want a young boy like you traveling alone so late into the night.”

And indeed, it’s reaching far later into the evening than Doyoung intended. He’s sure he hasn’t left the boys waiting down at the base of the hill, for they must have laughed at Doyoung’s back once he left and went off to play without another thought. When he glances to the side at the large arched windows, he sees that the sun is already setting, casting beautiful golden rays across the wooden floors. He’d be far too late for curfew if he had to walk all the way back.

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Doyoung says. He nibbles slower on his scone to have something to focus on rather than the piercing gaze Youngho’s parents have trained on him. They’re schooling their expressions meticulously, balancing between warmth and scrutiny. Donghyuck’s incoherent babbling is the only noise that fills the room.

Mrs. Seo clears her throat, adjusting Donghyuck on her lap. “Doyoung, I’d rather we not beat around the bush. Our family is not very keen on newcomers, and you are certainly not exempt from this case. But Youngho has taken quite a quick liking to you, and we can see that you are a good boy, I’m sure.”

“We have some safety precautions and standards that we’d like you to… conform to, if you decide to visit again in the future.” Mr. Seo’s eyes move to Youngho instead for a split second. “Nothing too harsh. We would just like to ensure the safety of our family, before all else.”

“Of course,” Doyoung says, but his voice is incredibly shaky. Youngho had replaced his half-finished scone with a jam-filled cookie. 

Donghyuck lets out a high-pitched screech, stubby hands grasping at air. “Cookie!”

“Everything will come in time, Doyoung. We’ll call upon you when it does.” Mrs. Seo takes another cookie and snaps it in half, handing a piece to Donghyuck. “In the meantime, let’s do something about those dirty clothes, shall we?”

The Seo Manor sends a car down once a week to pick Doyoung up from school and drive him up the hill. Most of the time, it’s just the chauffeur, but occasionally, Youngho tags along, though he’s not allowed to even peer outside the window when they’re parked, waiting for Doyoung a block away from the schoolhouse. Yet another safety precaution that Youngho has to obey begrudgingly. Doyoung is quietly grateful for that. He’d hate to draw even more attention to himself from his schoolmates when he already has enough of that.

The group of boys didn’t approach Doyoung until two days after he visited the Seo Manor for the first time. They sneered at him, accusing him of hiding away to pretend he actually completed the dare. When Doyoung passed them the rose Youngho had given him, they’d only laughed.

“You clearly don’t know what a willow tree is,” they jeered. “This is a flower. You really are stupid. A _ bastard _.” 

And they guffawed and screeched with the laughter, leaving Doyoung to sprint back to the orphanage. In his hurry, he tripped over the crack in the concrete he’d remembered to always jump over, and skinned his knee. He limped the rest of the way, with no way of knowing whether he’d have access to any bandages once he’s back.

But every time he takes the winding dirt road up the hill to Youngho’s home, he forgets everything else. He gets to have _ fun _, true, unadulterated fun, when he’s there. It’s more than anything he could have ever asked for. 

They spend afternoons running around the house, playing hide and seek in the gardens, exploring different rooms of the house. Sometimes, Doyoung pushes his luck with time and stays for dinner, if he can. Luna joins them too, but once the games get too rowdy, she’d always find herself a seat a short distance away, crossing her legs and her arms, content with just watching the two boys wrestle.

It turns out Youngho did truly have far too many cousins for Doyoung to properly remember. Once summer break begins, only a few months after the two first met, Doyoung spends every day at the mansion. He and Youngho stand side by side, leaning on the banister of the second floor overlooking the foyer, watching as two boys a few years older than them haul in several large pieces of luggage.

“That’s Sehun and Suho. They’re my other cousins. They’re also Luna’s brothers.” Youngho takes a bite of the apple in his hand. The crunch is loud enough for the two downstairs to hear, and they glance up, waving. Youngho waves back halfheartedly. “They’re very irritating.”

Doyoung can’t help but stare at how crisp their school uniforms are, ironed and perfect, bearing the school crest like a war medallion on their breast. And for some reason, it makes Doyoung a little smug; those boys at school would never be able to meet such high-profile people like Doyoung has.

“I agree,” Luna says, joining them by the stairwell. She’s in a dark emerald dress lined with white lace at the hems, the same shade as her brothers’ uniforms. “I wish they could just stay overseas during the summer too. The house feels too crowded with them here.” 

She reaches around Doyoung, trying to grab at Youngho’s apple to no avail. He smirks, but she catches him off guard, and some unknown force pushes the apple out of his hand. It falls to the marble floor with a thud, bruised.

Luna scrunches her nose in a mocking pout when Youngho whines about how he had barely eaten half of it yet.

Instead, she turns towards Doyoung in favor of ignoring Youngho’s brooding. “So, are you going to be staying with us this summer too? We aren’t moving out to the summer home this year because it’s under construction.”

Doyoung shrugs. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“You should join. We’ll have enough people to properly play capture the flag if Aunt Hyoyeon visits with her kids.”

“Luna, you don’t even _ enjoy _ playing capture the flag,” Youngho says.

“I like being on a team with my brothers and have them do the work, though.”

“I don’t think the orphanage director would allow it,” Doyoung says softly amidst their bickering. “I would need special permission.”

“Father will be able to get you out,” Youngho states. “He can do anything.”

“Really?” Doyoung’s eyes are wide with excitement. He would give anything to be here rather than in his stuffy room during the stifling summer heat.

“I’m absolutely sure.” Youngho grins, prideful. The gap in his teeth that Doyoung remembers from when they first met is quickly being filled by the new, growing adult tooth.

And indeed, in a week’s time, Doyoung’s packing a suitcase of clothes and belongings to last the summer.

They’ve known each other for a year when Youngho tells him who he truly is. 

Doyoung knew there was something different about the Seo Family. There have been too many odd occurrences during his time in the manor that could be written off as coincidences. The amount of times he’s walked in on floating objects that clean themselves up, billowing curtains despite the window being locked shut… At some point, he had thought he’d gone crazy.

“Remember when my mother said that our family doesn’t like newcomers?” Youngho starts. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, scrunching his shoulders as they walk through the gardens. “They’ve been checking up on you to make sure you aren’t a danger to us.”

With spring approaching, the flowers on the bushes only begin to bud, their delicate colors just barely poking out, absorbing the nutrients needed for them to bloom. It’s not very cold, but a thin jacket is needed to feel truly comfortable. The path they chose for their stroll is the one that wraps around the fountain, on the opposite side to the greenhouse. From there, Doyoung can spot the gazebo they used to celebrate their birthdays just a few weeks before. 

“I don’t think I’m dangerous at all,” Doyoung says. “I’m not much.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Youngho pauses to let out a sigh before he continues again. “My parents said this would be a good time to tell you, though. They trust you enough for you to know.”

Doyoung can only listen diligently as they pass by the rows of multicolored peonies.

“You know of the magic users that have been growing in number in the cities, I’m sure?”

They don’t talk about that much in school, but Doyoung has heard a few rumors here and there. The magic users have remained hidden for a while, but it’s only recently that they’ve been spotted all around big cities.

“We’re one of the most infamous families of magic users. We’ve kept our magic within the bloodline for generations.” Youngho gets quiet, ashamed of something he couldn’t possibly have had a role in starting. “They hate us. Both the magic users and the government. They think we wield dark magic. They think we’re demons.”

When they walk past the fountain, Doyoung doesn’t find the same peace he usually does hearing the soft trickle of water. Instead, he feels the intensity of Youngho’s contempt closing in on him. 

“Our abilities are all energy-based, which makes us the perfect weapon against other magic users. They think that’s too much power for a person to have.” Youngho jumps onto the ledge of the fountain. He spreads his arms out to the side for balance, tiptoeing along the edge, even dipping a toe into the water. Doyoung walks right beside him, watching as the water ripples in perfect rings across the surface. “My parents want to be careful. It’s been just our family for so long that they don’t want to risk anything.”

“You telling me this means that they trust me though,” Doyoung concludes. “That’s insane. You have _ magic _. And you kept quiet about it this entire time.”

“It wasn’t very easy,” Youngho says, but a smile is making its way onto his face. He hops off the fountain ledge with light feet. “Came close to exposing myself several times.”

They walk in comfortable silence. The scenery changes from the rows of flowers to taller trees, as if they’ve entered a forest. The branches hang overhead in sweeping arches, forming a tunnel, the leaves filtering the sunlight. At the end of the tunnel is a stone bench that the two have deemed their own secret corner. 

Finally, Youngho gets the courage to speak again once the bench is in sight. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

“Why would you think that?” Doyoung steps onto the bench and sits on its back instead. He braces his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. 

Youngho doesn’t join him. Instead, he watches Doyoung carefully, head cocked to one side.

“I’ve never really met anyone besides people in my family before.”

“Never?”

“Nope.” Youngho purses his lips. “You really don’t hate me? For sure?”

“I wouldn’t be able to,” Doyoung says. “You gave me a home I didn’t think I could ever have.”

Youngho’s face lights up with the most sincere smile Doyoung has ever seen in his life. He goes to take his seat by Doyoung’s side on the bench.

“Thank you, Doyoung. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Doyoung knows that the boys at his school are jealous. They’ve noticed Doyoung walking across the street to the sleek black car that even their rich families couldn’t afford. They’ve seen the new clothes he’s transitioned into wearing, the pressed white shirts and fitted coats. He looks like an entirely different person. Two years with the Seos have treated him well. He’s filled in his frame, and he’s grown far healthier than he ever was.

The boys are jealous, and that is why they corner him in the schoolyard after class one day, grabbing at his new leather school bag and throwing it into a muddy puddle. 

“You think you’re better than us now that you have new clothes, huh?” One boy sneers. The rest of them crowd behind him like his bodyguards, forming a jail cell around Doyoung. “Some expensive leather bag and suddenly you’re all high and mighty?”

Doyoung can’t help but cower. It’s not like he knows how to defend himself, anyways. He’s let himself be the punching bag for so long. He’s tired of this.

“You’re nothing but an orphan, no matter what you buy. You’re worthless.” Doyoung must have heard a variation of this insult a million times already, but his skin has yet to callous and shield him away from it. He takes each jab and jeer like a bullet, and curls in on himself. He closes his eyes. Maybe then it’ll go away.

But it doesn’t. He feels hands grappling at the collar of his shirt, lifting him up, choking him, but he can’t find the strength to fight it. He sends a kick, but it’s lackluster and does nothing against the boy’s tight grip.

“You don’t deserve any of these expensive little things, brat,” another boy spits. There’s a chorus of hoots when one of them kicks Doyoung in the stomach. He feels the air get knocked out of his lungs, and would have collapsed if not for another boy hooking his arms under Doyoung’s arms, propping him up for another punch.

“Parents couldn’t even bother keeping you.” The boys cackle harder with every slur they toss his way. “A bastard orphan. Useless.”

Maybe there’s blood on Doyoung’s tongue, he can’t quite tell. He’s let himself go numb in hopes that it’ll block everything out. He’s tired, terribly so.

But then he feels something tugging at his core, and it makes him open his eyes. The air seems to have been sucked away from around him, because the boys loosen their circle around Doyoung, breathing heavily, struggling as if they’ve had their lungs crushed.

One boy is grappling at his throat, falling to his knees, and the crowd clears. That’s when Doyoung sees Youngho, dressed in dark pants and a matching blazer, a silver chain hanging from the lapel in a delicate curve, hands hidden in his pockets. And his eyes burn, dark and saturated with anger.

Doyoung hears another boy cough desperately, collapsing to all fours.

The students in the schoolyard are screaming, running around in fear, searching for a teacher to stop whatever is going on. It looks like a graveyard, the boys falling down like soldiers being gunned down in ranks. 

He knows this is all Youngho’s doing. He never realized _ this _ is what the extent of Youngho’s magic could reach. And some part of Doyoung tells him to be afraid, to run before Youngho turns his back and hurts Doyoung too.

“Youngho, stop. Please.”

“They were hurting you, Doyoung. Why should I?” 

Youngho is so void of emotion that it catches Doyoung off guard. “I’m fine, Youngho.” Doyoung tries to school his grimace as he stands up. “You need to stop.”

The boy by Doyoung’s feet lets out a strangled gasp.

“You’re going to _ kill _ them, Youngho.”

“They deserve it!”

Over Youngho’s shoulder, Doyoung can see a group of students pulling their teacher by the wrist with hurried steps.

“Youngho. _ Stop!" _

He’s snapped out of his trance, the bloodthirsty gleam disappearing in an instance, back to his normal, honey brown eyes, His breathing is labored, and he glances down at his hands in disbelief. 

“We have to go. Now.” Doyoung quickly grabs his dirtied school bag and dodges through the yard to reach Youngho. He grabs his friend’s sleeve and pulls him away to the gate.

They don’t speak the entire trip back to the mansion. Youngho’s lost in his thoughts, eyes glued to his hands. 

Doyoung glances out the window, watching the city buildings morph into hills of green. In no time, they’re pulling into the driveway, and the chauffeur is making his way around to open their door.

“Youngho, have I taught you _ nothing _ in past years? Have you listened to anything I said? Or does it just go in one ear and out the other?” 

Taemin sounds mad, and Doyoung has never seen him filled with so much fervor and disappointment. Even though Taemin’s frustration isn’t directed at Doyoung, he feels the need to cringe away. He hides himself behind a croissant on the lounge chair across the room. He turns his attention towards the rows of leatherbound books placed in perfect alignment on the shelf beside him instead.

“The one thing I’ve repeated, and so have your parents, hell, every _ adult _ in this family has told you. _ Don’t use magic on humans _.” 

Youngho doesn’t even twitch.

The crunch resulting from Doyoung’s bite into his croissant is a bit too loud to not be awkward.

“I really don’t want to yell at you about something you already know. We’ve drilled this into you since you started asking to go to the city. Was that not enough for you to remember?”

Finally, Youngho’s head droops in shame. “I know.”

“Your grandmother won’t be too happy to hear about this,” Taemin says, the anger draining from his voice, turning into sympathy. “You need to be more careful in the future.”

“They deserved it,” Youngho says with a pout. “They were hurting Doyoung.”

The two glance over at the boy, who takes another comically loud bite from his croissant. Buttery flakes scatter onto his lap in a mess.

Taemin sighs, and he takes a seat in the armchair across from Youngho. “I know you think you have his best interest in mind, but you have to remember that family comes first. You can’t risk doing something like that again.”

“But Doyoung _ is _ family.”

Taemin stares at Youngho, an unreadable expression on his face.

Youngho droops. “I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that.”

A beat of silence passes, and Doyuong has already finished his croissant.

“For the record, Youngho,” Taemin says, picking his words carefully. “I’m sure you were right. Your parents wanted you to have a proper scolding, which is what I’m here for. But I’m proud of you, nonetheless, for standing up for your friend.”

Youngho grins to himself when Taemin ruffles his hair endearingly.

Sometimes, Doyoung forgets that they have been friends for a long time, now. Years. It’s been years since they met that first faithful day. Doyoung almost remembers it clear as day. 

Since Doyoung’s eleventh birthday, he’s been living in the Seo Manor, in the room down the hall from Youngho’s and the one next to Donghyuck’s. Though it’s not as large as Youngho’s bedroom, it’s still two, maybe three times bigger than the room he had back at the orphanage. 

It has a window, one as tall as the walls, overlooking the back gardens. He can see how each path twists through the beds of flowers, the fountain lying amidst it all. If he looks hard enough, he can spot the dead ends of the hedge maze not too far from the greenhouse.

The bed is large enough for him, Youngho, and Donghyuck to sprawl on after a long day of sprinting up and down the halls, playing a never-ending game of tag. When they’re exhausted, they toss themselves onto the bed, sinking into the mattress in a giggly heap. 

Nothing can compare to a summer day at the ocean, however. True to Luna’s words from years ago, they finally travel out to the coast where the summer house is. It’s just as grand as the manor, except instead of the garden as its backyard, there’s a private beach. 

Doyoung meets another one of Youngho’s cousins, Chanyeol, who’s so tall that Doyoung has to crane his neck to properly see his face. 

They spend long days out at the beach, enjoying the sun and heat, cooling themselves in the ocean. They play the game of capture the flag that they’ve been waiting for, and Doyoung remembers his thighs hurting for days afterward from trying to sprint through the sand. 

This, Doyoung thinks after a long day of hikes along the cliffside of the beach, is what God had given to him as an apology for those years in the orphanage. He gifted Doyoung with a family, a real one that he’d never exchange for anything else in the world.

“I have something to give you,” Youngho says. Moonlight is creeping slowly across the floors of his room, each inch signaling the passing of another increment of time, closing in on dawn. Taemin might throw a fit if he finds out the two had another unsolicited sleepover that’ll leave the two of them yawning into the afternoon.

Youngho rolls off the bed in a heap, nearly collapsing onto the floor when he falls off the edge. He makes his way to his dresser and shuffles through its contents until he finds what he’s looking for, matched with a quiet “Aha!”

Doyoung crawls towards the foot of the bed, blinking at the two glistening objects in Youngho’s palm. 

“They’re friendship rings,” Youngho says, poking at them with a finger. It catches the light, and the silver flashes white for a moment. “The family crest is engraved inside.”

Doyoung can only stare at them in awe. 

“There’s probably some sort of magic laced into them, I’m not sure.” Youngho takes a ring, closing it in the palm of his hand, and extends the other hand towards Doyoung.

“Why do you have the family crest on here, though,” Doyoung asks. He slides it on, and it’s a bit too loose for his index finger, but he’s sure he’ll grow into it in the coming years. He admires the way it shifts from silver to black and back to silver again.

Youngho laughs quietly, donning his ring as well. “I thought we had established this already. You are my family.”

Doyoung can’t help the dopey smile that blooms on his face. He twists the ring around his finger, once, twice, and familiarizes himself with the feel of the cool metal on his skin. 

“That means we’ll be friends forever, right?” Doyoung asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Forever.” Youngho lifts his pinky up to Doyoung. “Pinky promise?”

Doyoung hooks his pinky around Youngho’s. “Friends until the end of the world.”

It doesn’t feel right to be in such a fancy suit. It’s scratchy and stiff, a little too tight for comfort at the neck, which he tugs on again and again, but it doesn’t budge. And in all honesty, he thinks it’s too much to have so many layers on for a party that is indoors during the summer. 

Doyoung hooks a finger under his bowtie, attempting to loosen it enough for him to breathe properly. When it refuses to, he scrunches his nose and pouts. He feels as if he’s been strapped to a wooden board for posture with how the suspenders pull on his shoulders. 

“How do you _ wear _this?” Doyoung asks, staring at his reflection in the mirror with a distasteful look. He picks at one of the buttons of his vest. “It’s so uncomfortable.”

“You get used to it after a few too many parties,” Youngho replies, adjusting his own bowtie so that it sits straight. He proceeds to fidget with the red sash across his chest. “Still not a fan of it, though.”

Doyoung hums. One last check in the mirror, and then he steps off the platform in favor of sitting on the ottoman at the bottom of the bed. Youngho seems agitated with the way he double checks each part of his outfit ensemble, readjusting everything even when it’s already perfect.

“What’s the big deal with this party anyways? It’s just family.”

“It’s the _ entire _ family. I don’t get to see all of them at once very often, much less all together in a room.” Youngho’s eyes meet Doyoung’s in the mirror, and Doyoung can see how nervous he is. He pulls on the lapel of his jacket. “It’s difficult to get all of us together for one evening. Grandmother is very adamant that nobody misses out.”

Doyoung can hear the bustling festivities just downstairs, the final set up being carried out as more and more guests arrive. There’s a growing number of voices and conversations, overlapping with the orchestra tuning their instruments. It fills Doyoung with anticipation to know that he’d be attending such a grand party.

“Don’t be nervous,” he tells Youngho. “I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”

“Except for my performance,” Youngho mumbles under his breath. He runs a hand along his hair, slicked back except for a few stray strands that refused to stick with the gel.

“You’ve practiced night and day for weeks already. There’s no need to worry. You’ll be perfect.”

Youngho offers a noncommittal hum in agreement before he finally steps off the platform. He turns towards Doyoung, pulling at his cuffs. “How do I look?”

Before Doyoung can answer, the door flies open, revealing an impatient Taemin, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised at the boys.

“You two were supposed to be welcoming the guests at the door ten minutes ago. Even Donghyuck is there already, and he’s _ seven _.” 

“Mother probably had to drag him by his teeth.”

Taemin chuckles. “Boy, was he mad when your Aunt Tiffany came. She doted on him for so much longer than usual because the two of you weren’t there.”

“Aunt Tiffany is here already? She’s usually late.” Just the mention of Youngho’s favorite aunt lights a joyous flame in him, and if he was nervous barely a minute ago, Doyoung isn't able to tell. 

“She’s here. With gifts, too.” Taemin holds the door open wider for the two of them to file out of the room single file. “You better hurry before Luna opens your presents on your behalf.”

They rush down the hallway, eager to get to the party, but before Doyoung reaches the stairs, he stops abruptly, clinging onto the banister as he glances down at the decorated foyer. Everything glows golden, the chandelier scattering crystal tears over the guests. There are waterfalling flower arrangements on each side of the entrance, fresh-picked from the gardens. If the foyer already looks like this, Doyoung knows he’ll be overwhelmed once he sees the actual ballroom.

Youngho is already halfway down the stairs when he glances over his shoulder to call for Doyoung. “Let’s go, the orchestra’s already starting to play!”

“My darling boy! Come give Aunt Tiffany a hug!”

When Doyoung glances into the crowd, attention caught by the excited yell, he spots a tall woman in a dazzling silver dress, frills trailing all the way to the floor like the chandeliers hanging diamonds overhead. The white feather on her hairpiece is extravagant compared to the rest of the guests, which Doyoung didn’t even know was possible considering how elaborate everyone else is dressed. 

The volume of the woman’s voice causes the people mingling around her to turn in surprise, but Youngho doesn’t seem to care. He’s running towards her open arms and launching himself into a tight embrace. 

“You’ve grown so tall, John. I’ll have to wear taller heels so you don’t catch up so easily,” she giggles, patting Youngho’s shoulder, thumb brushing over his cheek as she studies him. “And you’ve grown so handsome! Tell me, how long has it been since I visited?”

“Almost three years,” Youngho says, and his voice suddenly falls timid. He tucks his head into the crook of his aunt’s neck, shutting his eyes.

“Oh, John, I’m so sorry. I get so caught up with work sometimes that I don’t realize the time passes so quickly.” She pulls Youngho in tighter.

Doyoung doesn’t think he’s ever seen Youngho so vulnerable, even with his parents.

“Grandmother wouldn’t like it if she hears you using that name,” Youngho mumbles, before reluctantly pulling away from the hug. His aunt holds him at arm's length still, never too far.

“I’ve already broken every family rule in existence, another one won’t hurt.” She winks, and her glittery eyeshadow flashes like the mischief in her eyes does. “I promise I’ll visit sooner next time with even more gifts to make up for it. Speaking of which, have you opened yours yet?”

Youngho nods with a crooked smile. 

“And it looks like you like it, don’t you. I knew you would.” Tiffany wraps an arm around his shoulder, guiding him towards the middle of the ballroom, and they nearly disappear into the crowd. Doyoung follows behind clumsily, dodging a server with a full tray of champagne while he’s at it.

“I saw it at the antique shop while I was abroad and immediately thought of you. And how about the gift for you and your brother? Do you like it?”

Youngho reaches into the pocket hidden on the inside lining of his blazer to procure a black, fingerless glove. “It’s a bit big.”

“Then I can’t wait to see when the two of you grow into it.”

Doyoung feels out of place yet perfectly comfortable all at the same time. He’s doing as promised, following close behind Youngho even as he greets each of his distant relatives, providing his friend the support he wanted. But once Youngho gets caught into yet another conversation, Doyoung lets himself fall a couple steps back.

He admires the party itself instead to distract himself. His surroundings cater to all of his senses in a beautiful, coherent scene. The background music of the orchestra, quiet enough so that the guests wouldn’t have to speak too loud to hear. The chandeliers, lowered so that each diamond can refract the light and shower the room in clear, soft sheen. The smell of plates of appetizers and hors d'oeuvres being carted out, presented on expensive porcelain dishes on a long table pushed against the wall. 

It’s what he imagines every fairytale gala to be, and maybe more.

He’s snapped out of his reverie when he notices the perfectly manicured hand extended towards him, which he takes on instinct. Some of the manners Taemin taught the Seo brothers has been unconsciously trickling to him, it seems.

“It’s nice to meet you, darling. I’m glad you’ve been keeping John company. It’s important for a young boy to have friends his age.” Tiffany beams. “Though I wish you had written to me, John, to tell me. I would have bought you a gift as well.”

Youngho winces and mutters a sorry.

Tiffany hums, a hand going to her chin as she scans the ballroom. The boys watch her curiously. Then, she gasps, and with a snap of her fingers, makes a sapphire-carved rose appear in her hand, like magic.

“I don’t have much with me right now, but I hope this is enough.” She bends down to pin the delicate flower to Doyoung’s lapel. 

“Thank you, miss,” Doyoung says.

“Please, call me Aunt Tiffany.” 

They’re interrupted by a deep clearing of the throat, and they glance in the direction of the noise. 

Youngho’s parents, with Donghyuck in between them, stand with careful smiles, and by their side is another woman with a young girl whom Doyoung assumes to be her daughter, considering the similarity in their features. 

“I think you have spoiled him enough for one day, Tiffany,” Youngho’s mother says. “Another gift and they’ll expect even more the next time you visit.”

“You know I absolutely adore giving gifts to them,” Tiffany replies. “If I had children, I would spoil them beyond compare.”

Mr. Seo’s smile tightens slightly at that, but if he wants to say anything, he keeps it to himself. 

“Mother wants to meet with us. Right now,” he says instead. “Irene just wanted to drop Yeri off with the rest of the children first.”

“Of course Mother wants to meet with us.” Tiffany rolls her eyes but steps away from Youngho nonetheless. “Well, lead the way, Brother. It’s your house, after all.”

Before the adults disappear completely out of sight, though, Tiffany sends a wink over her shoulder to the children, calling out, “Save me a piece of the croquembouche!”

Donghyuck and the girl, Yeri, sidle closer to each other, giggling at some secret between them. 

Donghyuck is just as dressed up as his brother, in a vest and shorts the same deep navy as Youngho’s blazer, except without the special red and gold sash. Doyoung didn’t notice at first, but Yeri’s gray plaid dress with a white frilly collar is similar to the dress her mother had been wearing. 

Youngho wraps his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder, the other hand messing with his hair. “Who made you be the obedient brother out of the two of us earlier?” he teases, and Donghyuck tries his best to duck away, to no avail.

“I didn’t want to. I was trying to draw and Taemin just pulled me out of my room,” Donghyuck huffs. “My cheeks hurt. The aunties kept pinching at me and telling me how much I’ve grown.”

Yeri reaches over and pinches Donghyuck’s cheek at that, giggling when Donghyuck lets out an offended gasp. 

“Well, have you two eaten yet? I’m assuming the role as babysitter now, it seems.” Youngho drops his arm from Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Mother had the chefs make the special sea salt fudge this time.”

Just the mention of chocolate sends the two youngest in a flurry, pushing through the crowds of knees and legs to reach the dessert table. Youngho only laughs. He moves to loop his arm with Doyoung instead, and they follow the same path as the children.

“Let’s go, Doyoung. They also have your favorite blueberry scones tonight. I made sure of it.”

“I’m nervous again, Doyoung. I can’t stop my hands from shaking.”

And true to his word, when Doyoung looks down at Youngho’s hands, they’re trembling nonstop by his side. He also seems to have grown paler within the last hour, and his eyebrows are knitted together with concern. 

Doyoung takes the hand closest to him and closes his palms around Youngho’s.

“You’ve been practicing too much to even be _ allowed _ to be nervous. You’ll do perfectly, I’m sure of it.” Doyoung can feel the coldness of their twin rings against his skin.

Youngho shakes his head. “I’m still going to disappoint everyone…”

“Take a deep breath, Youngho. That’s the first thing I always did before a performance.”

The two glance to the side to find Youngho’s younger aunt, Irene, sipping on a flute of champagne. She makes her way to the two. Unlike Tiffany, she’s smaller, daintier, practically the same height as Youngho. Her outfit is not as extravagant either, far more modest when it comes to the amount of shimmer. Only the intricate diamond necklace sitting against her collar signals her high status.

Youngho does as told, inhaling for a few long seconds, and then letting it out. However, Doyoung thinks that perhaps Irene’s presence has more to do with how his hands no longer shake than the deep breaths.

“Now, secondly, tell yourself that you know the piece, because you do. Reassure yourself. You are your own worst enemy.”

“But how do I know—”

“I just do.” She places a hand on Youngho’s shoulder and gives a light squeeze. “We all had to go through this, once upon a time. A stickler to tradition, your grandmother is.”

“Did you also play the piano?”

“Oh, Lord no.” She laughs, and it’s as airy and delicate as her appearance. “With these small hands, it would be a nightmare. I played the harp. If you check up in the West Wing, you might still be able to find my old one.”

The West Wing… If Doyoung’s memory serves him correctly, they’ve been specifically barred away from that part of the manor. The pit of his stomach fills with dread when he recognizes the mischievous smile settling on Youngho’s face.

“It looks like it’s your turn, now. Good luck, Youngho.”

The orchestra slows their music to a stop, bathing the ballroom in silence. At the front of the room, an older woman in a sleeved satin dress the color of red wine steps onto the platform, a glass filled with golden liquid in her hand.

“Welcome, all. I’m pleased to see that everyone has managed to show up to our party this year, courtesy of my son and his family’s home. They’ve really outdone themselves this time.”

A chorus of applause fills the air, and Youngho is grappling at Doyoung’s arm, aware that the time is ticking. 

“As tradition holds, we will be having a coming-of-age performance tonight, before the party launches into full swing. It is my pleasure to welcome my grandson and inheritor of the Seo Manor, Youngho Seo.”

Doyoung offers one last reassuring squeeze to Youngho’s arm before pushing him forward. 

Youngho takes longer to settle himself on the bench than normal, readjusting himself so he can sit with impeccable posture. He lays his fingers over the piano keys and takes one more deep breath before pressing down, beginning to play his piece.

Doyoung has listened to him time and time again perform and practice this piece, enough to the point that he would smother his ears with the nearest pillows on the sofa so that he wouldn’t have to hear the same segment being played again. There’s something different about how he plays this time, though.

Behind the face of the boy at the piano is a timeless soul, one filled with so much unconditional love and gratitude for his family. When he plays, he plays with passion and emotion, powered by the support of those watching him. He never had to be nervous; he would have played flawlessly either way.

The piece trails into a quiet, sorrowful end, trickling into silence before the audience’s applause fills it again. 

His grandmother approaches him and places a placating hand on his back, praising him with a grin. He visibly lets out the breath he’s been unconsciously holding all these hours. The smile that comes through is prideful.

He stands from the seat, and with his grandmother’s arm hooked in his, they step off the platform. The orchestra lifts their instruments, awaiting the signal for them to play again.

The head of the Seo Family holds up her champagne to the sky, and gold meets gold in the perfect blend. “May our celebrations commence!”

By the third round about the dessert table, Doyoung starts to feel a little sick to the stomach with the amount of chocolate and cake he’s consumed. He’s sure that he’s the one to have plucked half of the giant pile of blueberry scones off its tray. Even with the breaks in between, going around looking for Youngho’s cousins and dancing to the smooth jazz that the orchestra is playing.

But it’s not enough for Youngho, apparently. They stand by the grand archway of the ballroom, hidden from view by the thick draperies and floral arrangements, watching Donghyuck and Yeri twirl around each other until they’re too dizzy to properly walk.

“We should go find Aunt Irene’s harp,” Youngho says. He turns his head to gauge Doyoung’s reaction.

Doyoung tries his best to school his surprise and apprehension. “Isn’t that forbidden—”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the West Wing.” Youngho sighs, but it sounds forced. “Could you imagine living in this house your whole life, yet still have half of it be completely unknown to you? I want some adventure.”

“Why tonight? There are lots of other things to entertain ourselves.” Doyoung can tell that his worry is seeping into the urgency of his words. “Suho and Sehun would probably play a game of poker with us, if we ask nicely.”

“We go tonight because everyone is _ distracted _,” Youngho reasons. “The staff are all working, and my parents are busy making sure everyone is happy. There’s no better time than tonight.”

“But—”

“We won’t get a chance like this for several years, at best.” Youngho is growing excited, the energy around him becoming bigger, electrified. “I know my Aunt Tiffany. Once she’s on a boat to the other side of the world, she’ll be gone without contact for God knows how long. And my grandmother isn’t too keen on seeing Aunt Irene so soon after this. I’m telling you, it’ll be a long time before we can try to sneak up there again.”

“Youngho, you know it isn’t right to disobey your parents.”

“Please?” Youngho clasps his hands together, eyes going wide as he pouts. He knows that this doesn’t work on Doyoung, but it’s amusing to see him try anyways. “We’ll just take a quick peek. If there’s nothing, we’ll be right back here in twenty minutes. Nobody will realize we even left.”

“Twenty minutes. You promise?”

Youngho lifts his hand up, fingers curled in a fist except for his pinky. The silver ring glistens on his middle finger, now that he’s grown enough for it to fit better.

Doyoung sighs, a little exasperated. Maybe this is what Taemin had to deal with all those years, trying to teach this rambunctious boy. Nonetheless, Doyoung hooks his finger with Youngho’s.

There’s something unsettling about taking the stairs up the opposite direction of what he’s used to, like a shift in gravity that can’t be explained. Holding the banister with his left hand instead of his right, the stairs going up higher than it does into the East Wing. Something feels wrong.

The hallway is darker, the lighting fixtures on the wall glowing dimly, almost as if they’re intention isn’t to light the way and rather to discourage visitors. Youngho pushes through anyways, and Doyoung’s eyes adjust to the dark, slowly but surely. Every other floorboard squeaks when Doyoung steps on it. It’s clear that this half of the manor is not as well maintained as the half meant for daily living.

Youngho stops abruptly, and Doyoung nearly crashes into him headfirst. He’s confused for a moment, before his eyes follow the trajectory of Youngho’s gaze.

A set of wooden doors arches across the wall, symmetrical curls carved into the dark wood. When Youngho reaches forward to try and open it, he realizes that there are no doorknobs.

Youngho frowns, splaying his palm on the surface. 

“How peculiar,” he mumbles to himself. He runs his hand across the door, fingers dipping with the etches. Doyoung nearly jumps out of his skin when Youngho hisses, retracting his hands quickly.

There’s a scratch on his finger, not too deep to scar but enough to draw blood. He puts his finger to his mouth and sucks on it. Doyoung’s look of worry is ignored.

“We should go back, I don’t think the door is going to open.” Doyoung tries to grab for Youngho’s arm, but his attempts are interrupted when a deep creak echoes through the silent halls. The two take a step back to allow the doors to open.

“Too late to back out now,” Youngho says, and he steps into the room. The moment he sets foot inside, a series of candles flicker alight, revealing the shelves upon shelves of books positioned in perfectly spaced rows across the room.

Doyoung has no choice to follow. As he crosses the threshold, however, some invisible force knocks him across the head, sending a splitting headache through his skull. He feels queasy, all of a sudden, and those scones he was happily munching on just an hour ago feels as if they’ll come right back up.

He stumbles forward to catch up with Youngho, an arm wrapped across his stomach in a meager attempt to keep himself together. The pain is excruciating, as if he’s been cut in half and barely pieced together, forced to continue moving when his body and legs still feel detached from each other.

Youngho scans the books, a hand running over all the leather bounds, stopping whenever a novel catches his attention. Most of them look old, likely to fall apart if he does so much as to take it out of its designated pocket on the shelf. 

Doyoung focuses on taking long breaths to ease the pain, and it helps, just barely. While following Youngho through the shelves, his eyes catch on the tree painted on one wall, kept clear of furniture to keep the entire image in view. The giant winding tree extends all the way to the ceiling, branches twisting and growing down generations and generations. Doyoung can see the names written in elegant calligraphy under the silhouetted profiles of each member of the family, along with the year of birth and death.

He spots Youngho’s grandmother, painted at Doyoung’s eye level, and it branches off into the three siblings, Youngho’s father and aunts. Tiffany’s is cut off after her silhouette, without any children to carry on her lineage. Next, he sees Youngho’s parents, and his mother, beside the line drawn for marriage between the couple, another branch stems off into the tree, disappearing somewhere that Doyoung can’t quite follow. And finally, Irene, but instead of the head of Yeri’s father by her side, the wallpaper is ripped. 

Falling at hip level are Youngho and Donghyuck’s figures, but they’re drawn at the bottom of the tree, the leaves hanging right beneath their names without room for another generation. Perhaps the wall is enchanted, Doyoung rationalizes. Some sort of magic will rearrange the tree once the next generation is born.

“Doyoung, come look at this!”

Doyoung has to pass through three rows before he finds Youngho hunched over a large book stand with carvings on its post that match that of the entrance. There’s a large book easily the size of Doyoung’s torso spread open on the stand. As he gets closer, he can see the yellowing pages and smudged ink. The closest candle casting the most light on the book flickers ominously.

“What _ is _ this?”

“I think it’s a spellbook. But it’s in another language. I can’t properly read it.” Youngho gently takes a page between his fingers and flips it over. 

“I have a bad feeling about this, Youngho.” Doyoung thinks he might throw up if he doesn’t get some fresh air in the next minute. “We need to get out of here. What if your parents come looking for us—”

“It’ll be fine.” Youngho is too entranced by the book to properly look up at Doyoung. He scrunches his eyebrows at a specific passage and brings a finger up to follow the lines. “We should try casting one of these.”

“No, _ we shouldn’t _.” Doyoung’s voice gets higher, his nerves strung tight. “I thought we were looking for the harp.”

“We can look for it after.” Youngho points at the diagram next to the paragraph. There’s a diagram of… something, it’s hard to comprehend. Albeit detailed, Doyoung can’t tell what it is that’s being depicted. He sees the naked body of someone collapsed on the ground, and next to it, the original image is scratched out, a black circle of incoherent scrawling.

“Do you ever get this kind of… gut feeling, Doyoung? Some kind of intuition telling you to do something?”

“I— yes, I do.” Doyoung gnaws at his lips, and he can feel the blood ready to burst out if he chews any harder. “But in a place like this, I wouldn’t trust it.”

“I think _ especially _ in a place like this, I should trust it. It must be some sort of magical calling in my blood or something.” Youngho taps at the same passage again with his finger. “And it’s telling me to read this. Out loud.”

“Please, don’t do it,” Doyoung pleads, but the pain in his stomach increases tenfold, and he doubles over, nearly collapsing to the floor before a hand catches onto the book stand. His fingers brush against the aged pages.

Youngho pays him no mind. He takes a breath and begins reading the foreign language, a series of unfamiliar syllables permeating through the silence.

Doyoung feels the ground begin to shake under his feet, and he lets out a strangled gasp, tears poking at his eyes. He can’t see anything besides the floorboards. Something is cracking beneath his feet. Everything is dark, and Youngho reads on. 

By the time Youngho finishes, it’s too late. The darkness flashes white, so bright that it’s blinding, and there’s energy surrounding Doyoung, picking his body up like a limp doll and throwing him. He barely feels himself crashing into a bookshelf before he goes unconscious. He’s sure that before he’s lost into the black completely, he hears a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream of a young girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! Everyone please go give Cynthia (johnshuaa) lots of love for writing this great entity of a chapter herself (it's her baby [don't worry, I will have one too...eventually...in the very very far off future]). She is very tired now (I mean I'm tired too from editing a whole ass 11k but you know what it's fine she did way more work than me) so give us your thoughts!
> 
> Also this chapter could highkey be read as a standalone and lowkey johndo have a better relationship in this than dojae have in the entire rest of this fic RIP
> 
> A short thread of the Seo Family can be found [here](https://twitter.com/dreammemetea/status/1250370474162307075)
> 
> A reminder that you can always find us in the links down below (and send us some ccs or tweets!)  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
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	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s probably safe to say you aren’t exactly human, Jaehyun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao so it's been a hot minute... but school's out, it's summer, GET READY FOR THE FINAL STRETCH B)
> 
> Working title: jaehyun finally gets his man

Doyoung is gnawing restlessly on his lower lip, but tries to hide it by biting along the inside, leaving an indent along his chin; nonetheless, Jaehyun can see his jaw tick every passing moment that the circus is silent, watching him, scrutinizing. Doyoung is waiting for something, anything, a tiny movement that would indicate something close to the safety he had held so dear to him by keeping his secrets. He's waiting for Jaemin and Jeno to run up to him and wrap their arms around his waist, tuck their heads under his arms like they did when they first joined the circus, barely fifteen years old without ever having a proper parental figure to guide them in their lives. He's waiting for Taeil to give him a reassuring nod, one that's grounded him every time they debuted a new show, and tell him that he understands, like he always does. He's waiting for Ten to swallow the lump in his throat to tell him that he loves him, no matter what happened in the past, and to tell him that if Taeyong were there, he would say that too. Doyoung is waiting, and it's like waiting for rain in a drought.

Jaehyun is holding his breath too, a little unsure of how to act. He _ knows _how he feels, he's established how he would feel even before Doyoung began telling his story. Jaehyun twists his hands into his lap, keeping his eyes trained on the sand of the circus ring so he wouldn't be too curious as to look around him, searching for the reactions Doyoung is so desperately waiting for.

It's so silent that Jaehyun can hear the short breath Doyoung lets out, of disbelief and disappointment, maybe in the people he's called his family, maybe in himself.

"The three of us survived. We were the only ones to. We took Donghyuck, and we fled to the city," Doyoung manages to say, though his voice has rubbed raw by now. "We lived off what we could on the streets for a couple years, until he figured out that there was something off about me, about my presence. Sometime between the disaster and our life out on the streets, I had somehow gained the magical aura we all emanate."

"But that's impossible—" Lucas murmurs, only to be shushed by a sharp squeeze to his knee from Renjun.

"There were many secrets rooted deeply in that library, much of it probably illegal. But since then, I've managed to become a magic user. Johnny could feel it, and he concluded that I was the reason his family died. That I somehow just absorbed all of the power and magic, and killed them all. So he pinned the blame on me, took Donghyuck one night, and disappeared." Doyoung sighs. "And I haven't seen him since, until he came back to find us."

Jaehyun flinches, hard, when he hears a loud pound echo to his side.

Ten had slammed his hand into the bleacher, his shoulders rising up and down in time to his heavy breathing. "Doyoung, stop lying."

"I'm not—"

"You know damn well you are. He's found us before that. You never bothered to _ warn us_. I can't believe I had trusted you with every part of me, for all those years, when my life was on the line the entire time. I can't believe I thought it was _ fucking safe _ here."

"Ten—"

"Save it for someone who'll listen. Taeyong, maybe. But he's not here, is he? And who's fault is that, huh?"

Ten stands abruptly and jumps down two rows of bleachers until he lands in the ring with a quiet _ thump,_ the sand kicking up in small puffs by his feet. He walks to Doyoung, and looks him dead in the eyes with something beyond disgust. Something stronger, something akin to betrayal. Jaehyun remembers that look, but dimmer, not fueled with as much burning hatred, from when Doyoung had first allowed Jaehyun to join the circus.

"I don't trust you, Doyoung, not anymore. You've kept this, _ all of this,_ to yourself for far too long. We kept quiet, because we respected you, your privacy, but we gave you our vulnerability in exchange. You couldn't even bother properly storing that away."

Nothing about Doyoung's stance gives away that he's nervous, all except for his eyes, wide and glossy. "Ten, I know you don't mean what you’re saying—"

"Do you, now? Because I mean every fucking word coming out of my mouth right now," Ten spits, jabbing a finger at Doyoung's chest. "Some friend you are. You've lost Taeyong, and now you've lost me."

Ten shoves his shoulder against Doyoung as he brushes past him, and storms out of the tent.

Jaehyun hears rustling by him, from Kun debating whether to stand and chase after him or not, only to be held back by Mark, tugging on the back of his shirt to pull him back down.

Doyoung's mouth falls open, ready to say something, but without the words to fill the space. His jaw is tense from how hard he's clenching his teeth, fighting every twitch. His hands ball into fists by his side.

It's a quiet chuckle that breaks the tension, from Yuta, who has a leg dangling off the ledge of the seat, the other foot propped up on the surface, elbow draped across his bent knee. "I know this might not be much, but I'm glad you finally decided to tell us, even if it did take you—" Yuta lifts his arm, putting up each finger as he counts silently. "A few too many years. No big deal. I get it."

"You still protect us," Jungwoo comments. "That's what your magic does, right? We can't feel it, but it's there. Like some sort of force field."

Jaehyun can see the tension melt out of Doyoung all at once, the jagged posture he's held himself in being sanded down to smooth pebbles. He makes his way to Jaehyun, promptly dropping into the seat by his side, swinging his legs over so that he's facing the rest of the circus members, who gaze down at him, carefully watching his every move. Breaths are still held, uncertain.

"It hasn't done its job though. At least not properly," Doyoung says.

Jaehyun shifts too, moving one leg across the bench so that he's facing Doyoung fully. He hadn't even noticed that Doyoung had instinctively latched his hand to Jaehyun's and that he himself was gently brushing a thumb repeatedly over the back of Doyoung's hand.

"I don't think Ten realizes, but you've managed to keep Johnny away for so long already. He could have gotten to us far earlier. He could have caught us when we were in our slump last year," Taeil says. "That could have destroyed us."

There's a chorus of quiet laughs, little comments here and there about what happened, recalling some memory that couldn't have possibly been a good one, but a prominent one nonetheless.

Doyoung's hand is warm, and Jaehyun lets his fingertips run across Doyoung's knuckles, then tugs on each digit playfully.

"It's not your fault, Doyoung. Never blame yourself for this. You built a circus and a family out of dirt and twigs, from the ground up. We owe ourselves to you." Jaehyun smiles. He doesn't have to look back at the rest of the circus members to know that they're nodding along. "Plus, we all have these cute matching tattoos now."

Jaemin laughs from his seat further up the rows of bleachers. "We can get more! Matching sleeves, anyone?"

That's enough to bring energy to the group, some giggling and groaning from each corner of their meeting. But soon, the voices settle again into silence.

"So, what the hell do we do now?" Chenle pipes up. "We've got a crazy killer man on our heels, who just so happens to have Taeyong in his hands too. I don't see any option besides storming in and finding him."

"Chenle, shut up," Jisung hisses. "That's stupid."

"We're _ not _ going to do that," Mark says. "We're not risking another life right now."

"He's right." Doyoung scans his eyes across the people in front of him, all so determined, so loving. "Right now, the best we can do is hurry and move to the next city as planned. Johnny knows where we are, and he'll be pursuing us again once he finds this place deserted."

"But we can't just leave Taeyong..."

"He's smart. He knows how we move and how we work," Doyoung asserts, but it's more of a way to convince himself that his words are true. "He'll be able to find a way to us soon."

"You're putting a lot of faith into the fact that he can escape, though," Yuta says. "With the state Jaehyun came back in... I don't know about this."

"We don't have any other choice," Jeno reasons. "Taeyong said he'd be back in three days. We can only hope that he’ll make it out in that time. Otherwise..."

The reluctance in the air is palpable, but they know already that Doyoung's word is final. Within the next few hours, the tents would be folded and stored into the train, and they'd be rushing down the tracks in hopes that they won't leave a trail dark enough to be followed.

"And what about…” Eyes turn to Mark, who looks so meek and defeated, nothing like the great tiger tamer they know. “What about Haechan?"

Doyoung's eyes soften, watching the way Mark is picking at the rip in his pants, a nervous tick that he has. Mark tugs on a stray string, staring at Doyoung, awaiting an answer that he knows he won't like.

A beat passes.

"If he chose to leave, then that's his own decision. We'll have to live with it. In the meantime, we forget."

Mark furrows his eyebrows. His hand stops picking at the thread of his pants. "Forget him?"

Doyoung seems hesitant to nod.

"Forget him. Right. Forget the traitor."

"We never called him that—"

"I know you didn't." Mark pulls his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looks so small, so thin and fragile. "I'm calling him that."

Mark doesn't continue his explanation. He tucks his chin into his knees, and his gaze grows more distant by the second. Kun wraps his arm around him, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder, but it has hardly any effect.

Doyoung clears his throat.

"We'll start packing up. Now. The faster, the better, and we'll be on our way soon."

The circus clambers off the bleachers, splitting up as their feet sets on the ring. Some exit the tent through the main entrance, others disappear around the side to get backstage. They've scattered entirely, all except for Sicheng, who remains by Doyoung's side.

Jaehyun readjusts himself so that he's facing Sicheng, still too weak to properly stand up on his own. Doyoung stands, his hand unclasping from Jaehyun's.

"I saw something, while you were talking," Sicheng says. "It's not a good thing, though."

Doyoung shuts his eyes before letting out a strained exhale. "Enlighten me, please."

"There's blood. A lot of it. I couldn’t get ahold of anything specific, but I saw Johnny there. I shouldn’t be able to read him. He might be directly sending me a signal." Sicheng winces a moment later, a hand flying to his temple to press against it and relieve some of the pain. "This isn't like most of my visions. He's definitely making sure I get the message to you."

"He can do that?" Doyoung asks in disbelief.

"We don't know what he's truly capable of, do we?" Sicheng's intense focus then goes blank, wiped away as quickly as a snap of the fingers. "Taeyong. He found out it's Taeyong"

Jaehyun can feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, and somewhere, in the back of his mind, guilt nags at him.

"He wants you to be afraid. There's no other reason he'd try to send such a direct message." Sicheng digs his thumb deeper into the dip by his ear, scrunching his face. "This is not very pleasant, to say the least."

"We have to go further," Doyoung says. "The next city over isn't enough."

"No, Doyoung, stop." Jaehyun tries to push himself up on his own, but the pain in his chest multiplies tenfold at the sudden movement, and he falls back to his seat. "That's what he wants you to do, can't you see? If you do anything irrational, it'll make you more susceptible to his antics."

"He's planning. I can't see what, but it's inevitable. We can't pretend we can dodge him every time he attacks. We'll face him eventually, may it be now or later." Sicheng's grimace wanes until he's only pursing his lips. "Don't let him get to your head. I'll find you if he tries to signal anything else."

Doyoung nods solemnly, and Sicheng promptly exits the tent.

Jaehyun's arms are already open and inviting, ready for Doyoung to fall into him.

After Doyoung recollects himself and sets off to get things in order and ready for them to leave, Jaehyun walks out of the tent on his own mission. It's been bothering him, the way Sicheng couldn't read him, the way Jaemin couldn't heal his wounds, the way Xiaojun had stared at him for a little too long when they had first met. And Jaehyun intends to find out what it is.

He checks his car first, hoping to find the blonde and orange-haired duo, but peeking into their section of the room, he's met with emptiness. Something shuffles in the background though, and Jaehyun looks over into the next section to see Mark lying down with his tiger peering at him curiously. The big cat nudges her way under Mark's arm, nuzzling his face, and Mark just squeezes her tighter.

"I know," he says quietly, under his breath, "I miss him too."

There's something wrong, a little unfamiliar, with the picture. It takes a moment before he notices that the pair is sprawled in Haechan's bed. Jaehyun avoids his gaze, and ducks out of the car quickly, He has more pressing matters at hand and knows it's best not to bother Mark as of now.

As he makes his way down along the train, he passes by Jungwoo, Lucas, and Renjun, busy storing away lighting and sound equipment into a car further down. Renjun's back is turned to him as he delicately sorts some colored spotlight filters back into their respective folders, so Jaehyun taps him on the arm to get his attention. Renjun doesn’t turn immediately, and instead, stares at his arm for a second where Jaehyun had touched him. He blinks slowly, once, twice, then twists his body around to face Jaehyun.

"Is everything alright, Jaehyun?"

"I’m looking for Jisung.”

Renjun looks at him blankly, as if he couldn’t quite process Jaehyun’s words.

"You know, tall, lanky, kind of awkward?” Jaehyun reaches a hand up and holds it parallel to the ground at approximately his height. “Has hair that can be seen from a mile away?"

Renjun shakes his head, though it's more to clear his mind than a proper _ I’m not sure where he is_. Then, his eyebrows are furrowed, mouth falling open slightly. 

Jungwoo and Lucas glance over, concerned, but Renjun just shakes his head at them again.

"Right, sorry. Um, can I just—" he fumbles as he tries to find words to manifest the thoughts running through his head in. He gives up completely on trying to speak and just grabs Jaehyun's hand, holding it up in front of him. Jaehyun watches with confusion as Renjun prods at and manipulates his hand, proceeding to fold Jaehyun’s fingers around his own wrist.

With his free hand, Jaehyun taps Renjun on the top of his head to make him look up from whatever he's so transfixed by in their entwined limbs.

"Renjun, is everything okay?"

Renjun's eyebrows unknit as he watches Jaehyun's lips form the question. He glances at their hands then drops them quickly, rubbing his palms uncomfortably on his pants. "Right, right, sorry. I think Jisung and Chenle were at the carousel."

"Alright, thank you," Jaehyun says, then turns away to start towards the series of smaller tents off to the side of the main one.

"Wait, Jaehyun," Renjun calls behind him. Jaehyun looks back to the boy, who is now busying himself with stuffing the last of the folders into the box messily. "I'll come with you. I just need to… check something."

Jaehyun waits for Renjun to finish filing away the folders and catch up with him before they set off together in the direction of the carousel. Renjun still looks a bit troubled at his side, glancing over at Jaehyun every few seconds with a nervous look on his face. Jaehyun doesn't know what to make of it.

For the second time, he asks Renjun, "Is everything okay?"

"I see magic," the boy blurts out. Just as he says it, he looks like he immediately regrets it.

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at him. Renjun's acting rather strange today.

"The day we met, you asked me how I walked on the tightrope if I was deaf," he continues. "I can see why you'd think it's rather impossible with how an imbalance in my hearing would affect walking. I guess it's also quite odd that I run sound during shows when I'm not performing, isn't it?”

They reach the glowing structure, and sure enough, there are two figures trapezing around in circles, climbing across the horses like they’re stepping stones along a river.

Renjun’s steps slow as they get to the platform. “I see magic, I feel it, and it tells me things that I wouldn't know otherwise even if I could hear. I've never really been able to define my magic as the others have. Ten has invisibility, Jeno is physically indestructible, Jaemin can heal. The closest I've been able to describe it as is _ heightened senses._” 

He turns towards Jaehyun, watching his expression as if waiting for some kind of interjection. The golden lights are soft, cast across Renjun’s just as soft features.

“When I was younger I thought it was just my deafness that made my other senses more sensitive. But when I came here, when I met other magic users and spoke to them, I realized that they can't see magic the way I can.” Renjun raises an arm and waves it to catch the attention of the two youngest. They peek their heads out from behind the horses like bunnies out of a burrow. “Other magic users can feel magical energy and that's how they can identify each other as such, but I don't just feel it. I literally _ see _it."

“And you said you see that magic. On me. Around me.” Jaehyun stares at him, a frown prodding at his lips. “You’re positive?”

Renjun nods curtly, but he seems hesitant.

“It’s not exactly _ on _ you, per se, but there’s just something off about the way it behaves around you. All magic exists as energy, and I see it surrounding other magic users like the way you can see the light emanating off of Jungwoo. Only, we don’t create the magic, nor can we destroy it. It just exists, and we can manipulate it and move it. That’s how I stay balanced. iI the magic cooperates with me I can manipulate it to help keep me upright. But sometimes when I’m around you…” Renjun gestures with his hands vaguely, but before he can find the words, Chenle and Jisung are already running up to them with boundless energy, Chenle tackling Renjun into a hug.

“Hey Renjunnie, why is your face all twisted? You look constipated,” Chenle says, poking Renjun’s cheek.

Renjun disentangles himself from Chenle’s arms with a huff. “Ask Jaehyun,” he says.

Jaehyun laughs, though it’s a little strained. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you two. Do you ever feel anything… weird when you try to do illusions around me?”

Jisung blinks at him. “No. Why?”

“Okay, can you just, try to do something now? Like the cherry blossoms and the dove from before?”

“Sure,” Jisung says, complying and moving his hand to hover over Jaehyun’s outstretched forearm, though a little confused at the request.

Jaehyun, Renjun, and Chenle watch as a small, brown seed drops from Jisung’s hand and lands on Jaehyun’s arm, dissolving into his skin until a flat image of it is imprinted there. A few taps of Jisung’s nail on the seed and then it cracks, a small sprout emerging from the divide. 

The sprout grows and grows, getting taller and greener, roots simultaneously sprouting from the bottom of the seed and weaving in all different directions, tracing the paths of the veins in Jaehyun’s arm. Leaves begin to section off from the stem, then a round bud appears at the top, an oblong semicircle with mountainous peaks that enclose bright red petals. Jisung waves his hand over the painting and curls his fingers in, and in a rush, the flower blooms, petals fanning out in a circle to create a brilliant, blood-red carnation etched onto Jaehyun’s skin.

“Nothing looks strange,” Chenle shrugs.

Jaehyun stares at the flower on his arm and tries to focus all of his energy into it, but nothing happens. He frowns. He thought it’d work. Odd.

“Sorry to bother you, Jisung. Thanks for the help, though. I’ll leave you two to get back to work,” Jaehyn says, bringing a hand up to grasp Jisung’s shoulder in farewell.

But as soon as he touches the boy, he hears Renjun gasp. The three turn their eyes back to Jaehyun’s forearm. The flower is _ growing, _ the red petals overtaking the expanse of Jaehyun’s arm until suddenly, it _ bursts. _ A million red petal shreds soar in all different directions on his arm, exploding like a firework, then incinerate into ashes in front of their eyes.

“What’s happening?” Chenle asks.

“I don’t know, but it’s not me. I’m not controlling it,” Jisung rushes out, a little panicked.

The stem and roots begin to wither, shrinking in on themselves and browning in color, until they too become ash, and then nothing but empty space.

Jisung brings back the hand that was hovering over Jaehyun’s arm and cradles it to his chest protectively, stepping back as well to put some distance between them, Jaehyun’s hand falling from his shoulder.

Jaehyun lifts his forearm up to his eyes. It’s completely blank, no traces of the image to be seen.

For the second time, Renjun grapples Jaehyun’s hand and forces his fingers around his wrist. He lets it go, then repeats the action multiple times, murmuring to himself. Finally, after what seems to be the fifth time, he lets go completely, almost throwing Jaehyun’s arm back at him.

“What the fuck,” Renjun says. “Jaehyun, are you _ sure _ you’re human?”

“The more people ask that, the more I start to question it,” Jaehyun quips, though there’s not really much light in the statement.

“I’ve never seen magic behave that way. It’s like everything you touch _ repels _ it.” Renjun furrows his eyebrows. “We use magic by concentrating it in one spot. The illusion on your arm… To me it not only looks like a flower, but also like a thousand tiny lights all in one spot. But as soon as you so much as touched Jisung, it scattered,” Renjun says in awe.

“It didn’t feel right,” Jisung says quietly. “I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t feel it.”

“You okay, Sungie?” Chenle asks, reaching out to grab his hand and pull it away from his chest.

Jisung seems to calm a little with Chenle’s hand in his. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.”

“Sorry about that,” Jaehyun says sheepishly. “At least this would explain why Jaemin can’t heal me and Sicheng can’t read me. Peculiar.”

“I think we know what this means, then.” Renjun purses his lips. “It’s probably safe to say you aren’t exactly human, Jaehyun.”

The train teeters when the engine first fires up, taking its time to reach a steady speed that will take the circus to its next destination in record time. It’s a gentle rock, and Jaehyun, over time, has found it to be rather soothing.

Doyoung’s hands are gentle as he tugs on the buttons of Jaehyun’s dress shirt, careful not to touch his skin as if a simple brush would cause unbearable pain. He treats Jaehyun like a porcelain doll, tender but cautious.

He gets to the last set of buttons, and the shirt falls open. Jaehyun lets his arms go slack so Doyoung can push the rough fabric off of his shoulders. There’s a pulse at Jaehyun’s ribs, not enough to hurt, but a constant reminder that he’s injured.

Doyoung puts his focus into sliding the sleeve of Jaehyun’s sleeping shirt on without moving him too much, one arm, then the other, before tugging on the collar so that it settles comfortably on his body. He steps closer to Jaehyun, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and from the bottom up, he clasps each plastic button up to Jaehyun’s collarbone, leaving the top two open like Jaehyun usually prefers.

He lays his hands on Jaehyun’s shoulders, touching so gently it’s hardly present. Doyoung watches Jaehyun as if searching for any sign of pain that he may have caused while changing his shirt, and the concern doesn’t leave his wide eyes even as he confirms that Jaehyun’s completely fine. Instead, he reaches across to pull back the sheets and helps Jaehyun in.

“Sleep, Jaehyun.” Doyoung hesitantly brings his hand to Jaehyun’s cheek, and with a fairy light touch, brushes his thumb along his jaw. “It’s been a long day.” Doyoung looks off to the side when he says that, mind obviously elsewhere. He stands up to walk towards his desk, but Jaehyun reaches out to grab his wrist before he can get any further. Doyoung looks back at him.

“Stay,” Jaehyun says. “There’s more than enough room, and you shouldn’t be sleeping in a chair all night.” He sees Doyoung hesitate, eyes shifting between the chair at his desk and the bed. “You won’t hurt me if that’s what you’re worried about”

Doyoung sighs, but Jaehyun smiles and scoots over when he turns back around and pulls the blankets up so he can climb in next to him. The room feels ten times warmer now with a body next to him, even in the cold, dead hours of the night. It’s nice, comforting.

For a moment they just lay there in silence, breaths mixing in the space between them. The light from the oil lamp on the nightstand casts a golden glow over their faces. Jaehyun notices it highlights the tiredness on Doyoung’s face. During the day, he has a mask of courage, and leadership, and is able to tell everyone everything is going to be okay. But here, in the confines of this room, Jaehyun can see a different story. One that’s scared to be alone, like the little boy in the tale who lost his best friend.

“Do you think I made the right decision to leave Taeyong?” Doyoung whispers.

Jaehyun is silent for a moment. He’s not sure whether Doyoung means now, leaving Taeyong behind at the hands of Johnny, or before that, the first time. Maybe Doyoung hadn’t left him physically then, yet, it’s almost the same, isn’t it? Physically, or emotionally, he knows it wasn’t easy for Doyoung to leave him behind. Jaehyun chooses his words carefully: “Taeyong is smart. He knows family comes first.”

Doyoung’s eyes bore into his, filled with muted chaos and uncertainty.

“You know Taeyong would have said the same thing,” Jaehyun says softly.

Doyoung sighs. “I know.” His hand comes up to cup Jaehyun’s face, his thumb rubbing over his cheekbone. “Thank you.”

“He’ll be back soon. Right now, the best thing you can do for the circus, and for him, is to sleep.”

Doyoung stares at him for a moment, then nods ever so slightly.

“Goodnight, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says.

“Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

And with a slight twist of a knob, the lantern is extinguished and the room is shrouded in darkness.

* * *

The man at his feet isn't Doyoung. It isn't the man he's been hunting for the last five years to finally avenge the death of his family. It isn't the boy that he had grown up with, considered his one best friend outside of his bloodline, the first and final mistake their family had made that ultimately led to their downfall. It's not him.

The man at his feet is paler, thinner, smaller in frame. He looks frail, like a bird that has fallen out of its nest, left to starve on the ground rather than soar free like its siblings. Broken, because of Johnny.

He lies in a pool of his own blood, forehead pressed to the floor, his shoulders rising and falling in shallow breaths. He's hardly alive, and given another few hours without proper medical attention, he might as well be dead.

The man at his feet isn't Doyoung. He's far from him.

Johnny had wondered when the structure of his body shifted to the one in front of him now. He could never forget it. The body that he's acquainted himself with one lonely winter years ago, learned until he knew it like the back of his hand, only to lose him not long after. Johnny could recognize him anywhere, he thinks.

Taeyong had been the only person Johnny genuinely gave himself to, all of himself, ever since he lost his family, lost his best friend, and finally, his younger brother.

He no longer has the pink and red hair that had first caught his eye that one fateful night. Instead, it's fading from the dark shade of Doyoung's, turning into a murky brown that shifts to gray at the tips, like it's draining of color and life.

Johnny could never properly prepare himself for when the man turned, slowly, twisting inch by inch, movement so minimal because of the injuries that _ Johnny himself _had inflicted. If he's any less careful, Taeyong might just shatter. He shivers and twitches, and Johnny feels as if he'd fall apart and burn into nothing but a pile of ashes, swept away by the passing breeze.

He didn't think he'd ever see Taeyong in a worse state than he was in when Johnny first found him, malnourished, exhausted, longing for warmth in any home that could be offered to him. That was a sight that made Johnny's heart break, more than it already could with Donghyuck having disappeared into the night only a few months prior.

But there he is now, worse, far worse. Johnny can't do anything but stand and watch, awaiting the final blow.

When Taeyong turns, Johnny sees his wide, bruised eyes, glassy from unshed tears. Cuts slash across his skin as common as freckles on his face. There's blood smeared across his cheek, on his lips, dried into crust.

Johnny can feel his insides clench, harder and harder, until the pressure is too much and shatters him into a hundred shards, then stepped on until they become a million minuscule pieces.

"What have I done," he whispers to himself, taking in the sight of Taeyong, the one he'd sworn his life to on their final night together, promised with one last parting kiss. "_What have I done? _"

Taeyong's arms tremble to hold his weight, but even in that moment, when he faces Johnny fully, not as Doyoung, but as himself, as the only person who was able to make Johnny _ feel something _ after the loss of his family, he smiles, a hauntingly beautiful smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey... so you know that last scene? Basically life and school are represented by Johnny and I'm Taeyong :] so sorry for the wait (which was definitely all on me sorry).
> 
> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
[twitter (ohcanadaman)](https://twitter.com/ohcanadaman)  
[twitter (joint)](https://twitter.com/johncanadaman)  
[curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)  
[character profiles (the ringmaster carrd)](https://theringmaster.carrd.co/)  
[official spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6wR8vufsZ6CFCkLGaSrxQa?si=1Cr7CB-3QZS7-PnXjvWLqg)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you kill him, you’ll be just as bad as he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have an [official spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6wR8vufsZ6CFCkLGaSrxQa?si=1Cr7CB-3QZS7-PnXjvWLqg) for ringmaster now!  

> 
> Working title: TY track is back everybody >:)

The train drives for a much longer period of time than it ever has before. There was never the need to travel so far across the country in one go, for they always planned to jump through as many towns as possible to get the most out of their time along each track. But for the first time, they drive for a full day without stopping. The rattling of the wheels on the rails become a gentle swaying that rocks them to sleep. 

When they reached their destination, Doyoung had been hesitant to stop. The car doors slide open, the circus members ready to finally hop off and stretch their limbs on a ground that doesn’t constantly move, to feel a little more normal, but Doyoung, at the head car, holds a hand up. Nobody dares to move.

Eventually, he deems their new destination safe enough, surrounded by a forest on one side, blocked by a river on the other, and the unloading process begins. Through the morning and afternoon, they set up the tents, stopping for a quick snack break when the sun is at its highest. It’s not too warm, even when the sun washes across the field, as the river brings a humid breeze every so often.

There’s no loud banter or laughter as they unpack, not like there usually is. Typically, Jaehyun spots some of the members dropping their tools to chase another, just because they wanted to. At this point in the day, reaching afternoon when they’d be resting, ready for dinner, Jisung would spare one of his many decks to play cards with whoever he could rally, Yuta would take the horses out for a quick lap around the fields, follow a trail into nature if their location allowed. But instead, the circus stays idle, like they’re too afraid to move, waiting for something they fear won’t come back.

A gloom that settles over them like a weighted blanket, and it is suffocating.

Doyoung leaves his pocket watch out on the crate, popped open, and every other minute, he glances over to it. He’s restless and fidgety.

“Do you think…”

Jaehyun squeezes Doyoung’s knee. “It’s hard to say.”

They look up to the stars, the sky bleeding into darkness faster than they would like. It’s reaching the end of the fifth day, with the majority of the past two days spent traveling. The fact that they were on a moving train may have been the only reason Doyoung hasn’t run off to look for Taeyong yet. Now that they’re unpacked, nothing is stopping him. Jaehyun doesn’t want to know what Doyoung would do if he _ does _ choose to go look for Taeyong, but he expects that the world would be turned upside down once Doyoung gets his fingers latched around it. And he wouldn’t stop until he gets his best friend, his brother back in his arms. Jaehyun thinks that getting Taeyong back wouldn’t be enough to stop Doyoung once he starts, though, and he fears what Doyoung will become.

The time ticks down, minute by minute, second by second, and Jaehyun prays to every deity he can think of that Taeyong will make it back before Doyoung leaves. 

It is as if the stars answer Jaehyun’s prayers, see his despair and pity him, because they blink a fallen tear for him to catch and wish upon. Magic is real, and the stars grant him his wish.

The chain of the pocket watch snags on a loose seam of Doyoung’s jacket and falls to the floor, cracking the glass covering when Lucas yells, “Holy— It’s Taeyong! Taeyong is here!”

Doyoung sprints across the field, following the voice, the yells and hollers that grow as more and more of the circus members gather. He disappears around a corner, and Jaehyun tries to jog to catch up, careful of his own injuries.

When Jaehyun makes it to the small circle that’s formed, he finds Doyoung clutching onto Taeyong for dear life, arms wrapped around his back, a hand braced at the back of his neck. He’s crying, and they crumble to their knees.

Taeyong looks like he’s been torn into pieces and put back together haphazardly with glue and shaky hands. His cheekbones are too hollow, his skin clinging to his bones too tightly. There’s blood, dirt, tears staining his face, and he lays his entire weight on Doyoung as he mumbles quietly to him things that Jaehyun can’t quite hear. His hair is ashy, clumped. But when Taeyong opens his eyes, they don’t resemble his figure. His eyes are filled with strength, a will that can’t be snapped. 

“Hey, let’s get me healed before you crush my ribs again, alright?” Taeyong says with a small laugh, but it sends him doubling over and into Doyoung’s shoulder. “Maybe that wasn’t the best moment for that…”

“Taeyong, he nearly _ killed you_,” Doyoung hisses. “I swear if it’s the last thing I’ll do—”

“Please, not now.”

Jaemin dodges through the circle to get to Taeyong, kneeling beside him. He immediately grasps onto Taeyong’s hand to heal some of the more minor injuries, the cuts and bruises along his skin. 

“We need to get him on a bed. It’s going to take some time to heal everything,” Jaemin says. 

Doyoung reluctantly pulls away, drops his arms from Taeyong and lets Jaemin and Lucas tuck their shoulders under Taeyong’s arms, helping him hobble over to the train. He watches them go, and for a moment, nobody speaks.

He shakes out his hands, lets out a long breath. Then his eyes pass over the worried gazes of the rest of the circus members.

“He made it back. He’s in good hands now. Once Jaemin deems him well enough, you can all visit him. For now, just get some rest. We’ll be here for some time.”

The rest of the circus disperses at that, wandering off to find something to entertain themselves until night. 

Then, Doyoung glances towards Jaehyun, who had opted to stay, unsure whether Doyoung would need that extra support or not.

“He’ll be fine in no time. Jaemin will patch him up, and he’ll be good as new,” Jaehyun says with a small smile.

“I don’t doubt that.” Doyoung offers out his hand, which Jaehyun grasps tightly, fingers intertwined. “Things will get better.”

Already, the purple under Taeyong’s eyes begins to fade right as Jaemin gently brushes his fingers over them. They move from Taeyong’s nose, to his temples, and draw down his jaw, healing the thin red cuts in their wake, the skin closing in together so the blood and scarring disappears.

Taeyong’s hair is a bright white now, and he is peaceful as he lays and rests while Jaemin does his thing. 

Doyoung holds Taeyong’s hand in a tight grip, sitting on the opposite side from where Jaemin is standing and leaning over the bed to reach where he needs to heal. Jaehyun stays a couple of feet away, back against the wooden board wall, watching inquisitively, considering he never truly witnessed Jaemin’s magic work in real-time when he couldn’t be healed by it. 

They’re in Taeyong’s room, which he shared with far fewer people than the car Jaehyun had been in. It’s definitely not as messy, and the three other beds are well-made and tucked in their respective corners. 

“I’m going to kill him, I swear… He doesn’t deserve any mercy after what he’s done to you, to Jaehyun… Hell, the torment he’s put all of us under for the past years,” Doyoung mutters quietly, almost to himself. 

“Doyoung, if you want to make so many death threats, please do so more quietly. I’m trying to sleep,” Taeyong deadpans. Jaehyun wonders how he’s even able to crack a joke when he must be in so much pain.

“But—”

“Doctor’s orders. Let him sleep in peace, please,” Jaemin says with a mirth-filled grin, playing along with Taeyong. “I’ll come back to check on the healing in a couple of hours. Most of the internal damage should be fixing itself as you regain your energy.”

When he jumps out of the car, Jaemin draws the door closed, leaving a thin crack to keep the air flowing. 

“I’m going to go after him,” Doyoung seethes. “He doesn’t deserve _ anything _ after what he’s done.”

Taeyong fidgets on his bed, the sheets rustling around him. He gazes at Doyoung for a moment, blinks a few times with a blank look on his face. Then, he lets out a long sigh.

“Jaehyun, would you excuse us for a moment? I have some private matters to discuss with Mister_ Murderous Tendencies _ here.”

Jaehyun shifts his nervous gaze from the brooding Doyoung to Taeyong, back and forth before setting his lips in a thin line and nodding. He makes his way out of the car, but something keeps him from going too far, out to the circus tents to meet with the others. Instead, he leaves the same-sized sliver when he slides the door closed, and leans against the outer walls of the car. The wood scrapes up against his back, old splinters that should really be sandpapered off. 

“There are parts about me that I’ve kept to myself, Doyoung. Things about my past that I thought were too precious to tell,” Taeyong says, almost too quietly for Jaehyun to hear. “Every time I tried, I just _ couldn’t _. You’re not going to understand why things happened the way they did.”

“What, you’re going to tell me that _ you _ knew Johnny? When you were—”

“Ask me. Ask me how I got out when I clearly shouldn’t have.”

“Taeyong, why did you try to sacrifice yourself? You were walking into a death trap”

“Just ask me, Doyoung.”

There’s a moment of silence and Doyoung’s heavy sigh. He scolds, “There’s no reason why he didn’t just kill you, Taeyong, do you know how dangerous your plan was? How _ reckless _?”

“Stop. Listen to me, for once, Doyoung.” Taeyong’s voice cuts in and out like a broken record, scratchy, like he’s on the verge of tears. “He let me go. I didn’t have to fight for my way out.”

“Is this some twisted kind of message he’s trying to send me?” Doyoung hisses. “I don’t want to play this _ game _ anymore. I won’t let him hurt anyone else.”

“I don’t know what messed up history you have with him, but you can’t. He… Johnny’s more than who you see him as.”

“You can’t possibly know him the way I do. He’s not going to stop until he gets to me.”

“He’s not heartless, Doyoung. I know there’s some good in him. I’ve witnessed it.” Taeyong gets quieter as he argues, exhausted from the intensity of their argument. Doyoung is a fire that is waiting to be fed, but Taeyong grows weaker in response. “You weren't the only one that saved me, back then.”

“What do you _ mean _? I got you out of there for good—”

Taeyong’s scoffs. “Just because you were the one who succeeded in getting me out doesn't mean there weren't others who have tried. I was his everything, once upon a time.”

“You… _ What? _”

“I was there for ten years, Doyoung. Is it so hard to believe that in those ten, long, gruesome years, that not _ one _ other person found me? Did you think that _ you _ were the only person who knew about my magic and what they were doing to me?”

Doyoung must have been stung into silence, because he doesn’t respond.

“Johnny was there for me in the darkest moments. He tried, too, to do what you succeeded in. He saw that there was potential in me. I shouldn’t have to live such a lowly life when I could have been destined for more.” Then, Taeyong’s voice snaps completely, and a sob ripples through him. “But I just didn’t have the courage to leave.”

“Taeyong…”

“_You can’t kill him, Doyoung_.”

Something snapped in Doyoung, Jaehyun can tell, because even the years of friendship between him and Taeyong, so strong it is considered family, could not withstand his rage. “He’s not who you remember him to be, Taeyong, whether you want to think that or not. He’s changed. He’s not the same boy I grew up with, and he’s _ certainly _ not the man you rendezvoused with years ago.”

“No, you don’t understand—”

“Look at him now. He could have been good then, but now he’s made it his life mission to kill us. All of us. Including _ you_.”

There’s another series of quiet sobs.

“Call it payback. It’s what he deserves,” Doyoung states, final. There’s no point in changing his mind anymore.

Taeyong sniffles, but somehow, he’s collected all the remnants of strength that’s been shattered within him, and pieced it together. His voice is hardened and low when he replies, “If you kill him, you’ll be just as bad as he is.”

A beat passes, silent. Jaehyun holds his breath. And then, loud stomping of feet. The door is thrown open, and Doyoung storms out of the car without even sparing a glance back. Jaehyun is sure that Doyoung didn’t even notice him right outside.

He hears Taeyong break again, cries kept quiet and to himself. Jaehyun barely has to glance into the car to see that he’s turned his back to the door, and his body is shaking intensely, body-wrenching shudders that must have been just as painful as the broken heart Doyoung had left in his wake.

Jaehyun decides it’s probably best not to confront either Taeyong or Doyoung in their vulnerable states, lest he accidentally upset either of them more. He peels himself away from the cold metal of the train and walks in the opposite direction Doyoung had gone. Looking up, he sees that the sky is clear, the stars shining brightly against a black satin backdrop. _ You’ve answered my prayers, _ Jaehyun thinks, _ but why have you also given me reason to make more? _ Then, he silently berates himself for cursing at them; the stars might be the only source of clarity in his life right now, and they need all the help they can get.

Another light illuminates the night though, an unnatural glow that catches Jaehyun’s eye across the field. The dry grass crunches beneath his feet as he makes his way towards the red and white striped tent. He peels away the heavy flap and steps inside, not seeing anything other than the usual set up of bleachers, platforms, and the trapeze rig at first. Then, he looks up and sees feet dangling off a ledge. _ Ah, there’s the problem. _

“You’re going to regret that tomorrow when you’re spinning through the air,” Jaehyun calls out.

Ten sets the green bottle down next to him on the landing platform, then pulls his body upright into a sitting position so he can look at Jaehyun. “That’s the least of my worries,” he says.

“Have you visited Taeyong yet?” Jaehyun asks.

“Nope,” Ten responds, popping the _ p_ and proceeding to pick up the bottle again and raise it to his lips.

Jaehyun’s frowns at the sight. “Why not? I’m sure he’s waiting for you to visit him.”

There’s a pause as Ten finishes guzzling his drink, ignoring the burn down his throat until he drains the last drops in the bottle. When he puts it down on the platform, Jaehyun hears the sound of glass clinking against each other. That probably wasn’t his first serving of the night.

Ten wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staring blankly across the tent. “He can wait a little longer,” he says. “I’d rather not see him all bruised up if it’s anything like the state you were in. You looked awful—” Ten shifts his gaze briefly to Jaehyun, “—Still do actually.”

“Thanks,” Jaehyun drawls. At least it’s good to know that Ten doesn’t lose his snarkiness when drunk. “He’s all patched up now, though. Barely a scratch in sight. Jaemin did a good job.”

“Well, he did a terrible job with you. Or maybe it’s just your face.” Ten laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world, head thrown back and chest shaking as the hollow sound fills the tent.

“I’m not going to take offense to that because you’re drunk. Come on, Ten. Get down, clean yourself up, and go see Taeyong,” Jaehyun urges.

“No thanks.”

_ He’s acting like a child, _ Jaehyun thinks. “What’s your problem, Ten?”

“Couldn’t protect him, couldn’t protect her,” he gestures wildly with his hands, knocking one of the bottles off of the platform. Jaehyun watches as the dark glass falls through the holes in the net and shatters on the ground. It’s going to be a hassle for whoever has to clean it up the next day, to get every thin, broken shard out of the sand as a safety precaution. “I’m lucky he’s alive this time. Can’t say the same for her. It’s really best if I stay away.”

Jaehyun’s not sure if Ten’s talking to him anymore, or to himself. He hasn’t an inkling about the other person Ten’s monologuing on about, but his voice, monotone and _ dead, _ tells him everything he needs to know about this mystery lady. 

“Ten,” he tries again, softer this time. “He wants to see you. You’re his best friend.”

Ten stares at him, and Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably. His eyes are hollow, boring into Jaehyun’s skull and looking past him at the same time. His sigh is barely audible. “What’s the point? We’re being set up. We’re going to get killed. There’s nothing keeping us safe. We’re walking into a lion’s den without as much as a candle to guide our way. I should have left when I had the chance, whether that be four years ago, or even the last city.”

“Ten…” Jaehyun repeats cautiously. 

Ten’s laugh is quieter this time, solemn instead of loud and mocking. “Face it, Jaehyun. Johnny’s not going to let us get out of this alive. Someone will die. I don’t need Sicheng to tell me that.”

“No one’s going to die, Ten. We’re all doing the best we can to protect each other and—”

“And what, Jaehyun? Doyoung said he’d protect us, Taeyong tried to protect us, _ I _ tried to protect them, and look at where it got us. You’re lucky, Jaehyun. You’re human. Save yourself while you can and get out of this hellhole.”

Jaehyun doesn’t bother trying to correct his statement about his magical status. It’s useless trying to talk to Ten in this state.

“Don’t complain if you throw up tomorrow after performing,” he says pettily, then walks away to the sound of Ten yelling after him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t!”

The air bites at his skin as he steps outside, the cool breeze leaving little pinpricks on his arms. He looks up. The stars are shrouded in darkness, covered by a veil of clouds. It looks like he’s lost them too.

Jaehyun circles back to Taeyong’s car to check up on him again before he heads off to bed. The lights inside are dim like the gentle glow of the lanterns set up all around the circus tents, just enough to navigate the dark, not enough to draw attention. He can see the sliver of golden light peeking out from behind the door.

He slides the door open as quietly as possible, careful not to disturb everyone inside. It’s rather late, and while not late enough for everyone to be completely asleep, it’s best to remain considerate, especially with the state Taeyong is in.

Jaehyun spots Taeil in his corner, opposite of Taeyong, sorting through his drawer by his bed, back turned to the door. The other two inhabitants have not returned yet, their beds still neatly made and untouched. The light of each of their lamps on the nightstand by their respective beds, however, are all on.

Then, Jaehyun glances at Taeyong’s bed. Despite it being built to support one person, and maybe another if they squeeze a little, there are four other bodies squishing onto the mass, and Jaehyun wonders how they manage to stay on without slipping off. He supposes that with Chenle shifted into a hamster nesting in Jisung’s hair, the squeeze was slightly alleviated. The five youngest are bundled together, legs tangled and arms draped over one another, snuggling into each other. They were still in their everyday clothes, and Jeno even still had his leather boots on. In the midst is Taeyong, caught in between this giant hug sandwich.

“I don’t have the heart to wake them,” Taeil whispers as he shuts his drawer. He walks over to Jaehyun, who’s remained leaning against the wall. “But someone’s going to wake up with a sore back tomorrow and won’t stop complaining.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine here for one night. As long as they don’t accidentally crush Taeyong in his sleep,” Jaehyun whispers back. They share a small grin. 

“Jaemin said that he’s almost completely healed. The bones will take a bit longer to fully recover, but he’ll be up and running in a day or two. I doubt Doyoung wants him working for a while, though.”

An indistinct snore comes from the pile, causing one of the tangled legs to kick. Another groan, but they’re all too deep in their slumber to react.

“Will we be having a show here?” Jaehyun asks. 

“Most likely. It’s going to be a bit more on and off, from now on, I think. Doyoung hasn’t relayed his final decision yet. But if we continue with the schedule, the next show should be the day after tomorrow.”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t ask Taeil to elaborate. Nobody knows what’s going through Doyoung’s mind as of now.

“Well, I’ll leave you in peace,” Jaehyun says, and Taeil nods before heading back to his quarter of the room.

Jaehyun walks to Taeyong’s nightstand and tugs on the chain connecting to the bulb of his lamp, and the light extinguishes. Then, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the white friendship bracelet. The ends are frayed, surely, but it stays perfectly intact, a little discolored, but nothing that can’t be washed out. Jaehyun gently lays the bracelet next to the lamp. He takes a couple of steps backward, heart warmed by the sleeping figures, and then turns to leave the car.

He hops off the ledge of the car and lands in the grass with a soft thud. He keeps a hand against the side of the train, and if he walks towards the caboose, past three more cars, he’d get to his own car. 

He passes the first, hand losing contact with the side for a moment as he crosses the in-between where the trains are linked by its metal coupler.

As he’s about to approach his car, he spots a figure on the top of the train, legs dangling over the edge, shoulders hunched. Something about that silhouette sends a shiver down Jaehyun’s spine.

When he gets closer, he can make out the details of the person’s features, and despite the fear building in his chest, Jaehyun circles around to the end of the car to climb up the ladder and to the top of the car with some strenuous effort.

“You should be getting some rest, Mark. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow,” Jaehyun says as he walks across the train top. “Are you alright?”

Mark stares at his feet. The arch of his nose is illuminated by the moon’s shine, but the rest of him is lost to the shadow. “I… Can I talk to you? Not for long, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Of course.” Jaehyun is hesitant, however, as he takes a seat by Mark’s side. Paranoia itches at him, telling him to keep his back protected, that he’s too exposed. But he pushes that feeling down and glances at Mark.

“What happened while you were there with Johnny?” Mark says, and he bites his lower lip nervously. “With… Haechan.”

Jaehyun’s mouth goes dry. He doesn’t want to remember, and much of his memory of that time has gone missing from the head trauma. And he knows, just by the look on Mark’s face, that he had to tread carefully, because Mark has become so, so fragile in the span of the last few days.

“Haechan… He wasn’t like the Haechan we know, I think.” Jaehyun splays his hands out behind him to lean on as he shifts his weight back. “He’s caught up by this new _ idea _ of the world and his life that it’s blinding his true sight. 

“But he’ll see past that, right? He’s strong, I know he is.”

Mark looks so small and helpless, and Jaehyun wants to wrap an arm around him and give him the much-needed comfort he deserves. But Mark curls in on himself, almost away from Jaehyun.

“I don’t know, Mark, I really don’t. When I talked to him, briefly, he said… he said that he chose his family. His blood family, that is, as much as I don’t want to believe it either. He believed that’s what was best for him.”

“_We’re _ his family, though. We were there for him. We’ve been there for him for…” Mark’s eyes grow unfocused, his hands laced and fidgeting in his lap. Then, he freezes, and his arms shake. “Barely half a year. Of course. Family. He’s been with Johnny much longer.”

“Mark, time isn’t what determines how strong a relationship is.”

“He chose the other side. I think that’s enough to show how strong _ our _relationship was.” Mark squeezes his eyes shut, and crystal tears fall down his cheek. He lets out a shaky breath, and the next one he takes is released as a sob. He curls into himself further, his joined hands pressed to his chest, to his heart. “I don’t want to be angry anymore. I just want this pain to end.”

“Mark…”

“If he loved me enough, he would have stayed.” 

Jaehyun has never seen Mark so open, laid out, emotions bared to the world on a silver platter. He’s in such a vulnerable state that Jaehyun doesn’t know how to proceed.

“Am I a fool for loving him still? Even after what he’s done? We could all be dead soon because of him,” Mark whispers. His lips quiver, and he never looks Jaehyun in the eye.

“It’s up to you to decide what you make of him, Mark. I’m not going to decide that for you, and nor is Doyoung.”

Finally, Mark turns his head to face Jaehyun head-on, and he looks so haggard and broken that he might as well have been the one kidnapped and tortured. 

He tries so hard to keep his composure, but he trembles, and it gives everything away. 

Jaehyun is there with open arms when Mark falls into him and cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, can you tell that Ten is my favorite character to write.
> 
> Also, the ringmaster carrd has been updated with more characters and this fic's playlist! Check it out below:
> 
> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
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[character profiles (the ringmaster carrd)](https://theringmaster.carrd.co/)  
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	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s here. They’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but we're getting very very close to the end already ;-;. anyways, in honor of dojae selfie after 284 long days, some dojae content.
> 
> Working title: oh doyoung, you stupid stupid man

Jaehyun picks absentmindedly at the peeling faux leather of the chair he had dragged to sit across from Doyoung at his desk. The little pieces crumble to dust between his fingers, and he lets them disappear into the air. Then, he repeats the process, nails digging under fabric and pulling the cracked bits off.

Doyoung jots quick notes across a piece of paper, consistently turning back to a hardcover book laid flat next to him, studying it for a period of time, then going back to writing something else. He pulls open the small drawer right to his side and procures another blank piece of paper.

Jaehyun can’t quite see what he’s writing, with the large map taking up most of the surface in the middle of Doyoung’s rectangular workspace. Jaehyun focuses on that instead, those red circles and dots scattered all across the country, and Jaehyun can’t help but be a little jealous of how many places the circus has seen. Of course, however, he knows that “seeing” is limited to the acre of land they have to themselves for a few days, and never the exploring he imagines.

When Doyoung clears his throat, Jaehyun’s head whips up at the sound. He had stopped his scrawling to side-eye the armrest of Jaehyun’s chair.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t destroy my furniture, thank you very much,” Doyoung says, amused. Jaehyun immediately pulls his hand away from the armrest and smiles sheepishly. 

Doyoung goes to dip his fountain pen in the pot of ink, only to find it empty, leaving scratchy, thin lines across his paper. 

“Do you mind bringing me another ink jar? The blue, if you will. Top drawer of the cabinet.”

Jaehyun stands and heads across the car to the said cabinet, the first drawer just tall enough to reach his stomach. He jostles through a few unfiled folders and old pens until he finds the jars, five of them in varying blues and blacks lying on the very bottom. He takes the blue-tinted pot, and just as he’s about to close the drawer, he spots something familiar.

The parcel is half unwrapped, the paper wrapped around it ripped at the edges, butchers string tied in a bow but hanging loose off the sides. The corner of the item, a deep red, velvet fabric, peeks out of its packaging. Jaehyun’s curiosity causes him to pull it out along with the ink, bringing it over to the desk.

“Thank you,” Doyoung says without looking up when Jaehyun lays the ink jar next to the empty one. As he’s about to pop it open, he notices the parcel Jaehyun had left on the center of the map between them.

Instead of sitting back in the dilapidated armchair, Jaehyun settles on the edge of the desk, hands braced on the wooden ledge, twisting at the waist to face Doyoung. “This was the package from Xiaojun’s shop, right?”

“Why, yes, it is.” Doyoung places the tip of his quill pen on the stand and moves his papers and book aside. 

He wordlessly urges Jaehyun to open the rest of it up, and Jaehyun does so slowly, pulling away the twine and brown gift wrap paper to expose the rest of the velvet box, small enough to sit on his palm as if it were weightless. His breath hitches unknowingly. 

Jaehyun doesn’t dare open it, and Doyoung takes it from his open palm. He flips the top open, and Jaehyun barely catches the way the silver shines when meeting the rays of sun poking through the half-drawn curtains of the car.

“Xiaojun’s shop is full of little trinkets, but they aren’t just antique things you’d find in any human shop.” Doyoung looks down at the contents of the box with a soft sigh. “All of the items he sells have a purpose. A magical purpose, that is.”

Doyoung pinches the item out and lifts it, letting the sun shine on the polished silver band. Jaehyun barely catches sight of the dark etchings along the inside of the ring, so detailed that they look like scratch marks from afar.

“I didn’t think Xiaojun would be able to locate this specific ring so quickly, considering there’s only two of this kind in the world. Could have been at the bottom of the ocean, for all I know,” Doyoung says with a light laugh. “Magic really is an odd celestial thing.”

“How is that supposed to do anything…” Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow. “It’s so small.”

“Ah, but it’s special.” Doyoung carefully slots the ring back into the pillow of the velvet box. “I’ve been thinking for a long time how it would work. To take down Johnny once and for all, that is. I believe we’d have to harvest Johnny’s innate magical energy to the point that he’s completely drained and incapable of drawing it back to use. He’d basically be human, at that point.”

“You can do that?”

Doyoung bites at his lower lip. “I sure hope I can. His magic is tainted by how many generations it’s passed through to get to him now. He’s too powerful to kill as a magic user. And considering his own power being a way to manipulate magical energy… It’ll be difficult. We can’t let the Seo magic be expelled into the world, in case it poisons others.”

Jaehyun nods as he slowly begins to understand. “You want to reap his magic to eventually manifest it into the ring. Keep the magic in the ring rather than let it out and about.”

“Exactly.”

“But is it foolproof?”

“Nothing’s foolproof with magic,” Doyoung responds. He sets the box in the drawer right under the desk instead of its previous home. “I just hope it does. It’s the most plausible method I’ve come up with.”

Suddenly, they hear a loud cracking sound, like that of Mark’s whip while he’s working with his tigers, just outside the train. Then, the beating of a fist banging repeatedly on their car’s door. Jaehyun walks over and slides it open to reveal the energetic boy from the antique shop.

“Oh, hello, Jaehyun,” he says, squinting as he looks up against the midday’s sun. “You’ve looked better.”

“Thanks,” Jaehyun drawls. It seems like he’s been hearing that a lot lately.

“Yangyang?” Doyoung asks, turning around in his chair at the voice.

“Doyoung!” Yangyang exclaims, and he shoves past Jaehyun to clamber into the car. Jaehyun follows suit, standing behind Doyoung as Yangyang pushes away the little trinkets scattered across Doyoung’s desk to make room. “I was looking for you.”

“What are you doing here?”

Yangyang points to his head. “Doesn’t the hat give it away?” he asks. He’s wearing a newsboy cap and dark vest with thin stripes over a button-down shirt. Jaehyun would recognize that uniform anywhere; it’s what the newsboys wore when they came to the office to pick up the day’s print of newspapers.

“You’ve got news?” he inquires.

“Yup, and it’s bad.” Yangyang grabs the newspaper from where it was tucked underneath his arm and slams it on the desk. Jaehyun peers over Doyoung’s shoulder to read the title:

**WARNING: Magic Users on the Loose**

_ Dangerous traveling circus illegally hosting magic users spotted a few miles out of the capital city. _

_ Popular traveling circus _ Cirque des Perdus _ has been uncovered to be a safe haven harboring young magic users, run by dangerous magic user Kim Doyoung. The circus’ destinations as examined are unpredictable and scattered across the country with little correlation. Authorities advise avoiding going outside after sunset until Kim and his associates are caught. _

“—Federal investigators have been contacted. If you have any additional information, please report to your local police station,” Doyoung mumbles out the last two lines in a rush. He turns to Yangyang, “Where’d you get this?”

“The last city you were in. I was visiting store two and found this circulating on the streets.”

“This has to be Johnny’s doing,” Jaehyun concludes. “He’s the only one who knows we’re magical.”

“You got _ Johnny Suh _ involved in this?” Yangyang exclaims. “What the hell did you do to piss off the highest-ranking magic hunter in the country?”

Doyoung bristles. “It’s a long story and not one I have time for right now.”

“Well, Xiaojun’s not very happy about this,” Yangyang tells Doyoung as he shoves a finger at the word _ dangerous_. “We don’t know how much the government knows, and it’s possible they’ve already made connections between _ Timeless _ and you.”

Doyoung rests his head in his hands for a second, rubbing his temples, and sighs. “Okay, tell Xiaojun to stay at store six and lay low. They shouldn’t be able to find you there.”

“And what are you going to do?” Yangyang asks.

Doyoung stands up from his chair and grabs the newspaper, folding it in half and shoving it in another drawer against the wall. “We still have a show to put on.”

“You’re insane,” Yangyang remarks with a shake of his head. “Oh, and one last thing. Xiaojun said you’re not allowed to die because you’re his best customer. We have to pay the bills somehow.”

Before Doyoung can even reply, another loud crack rings through the air, and the newsboy disappears as if he were never there.

“You’re sure about this? Absolutely sure?”

Doyoung nods grimly, lips pressed to a thin line as he buttons the golden link chains of his red coat. “We’ve never missed a day. Every city gets a show as promised. We don’t disappoint. You know what we always say. _ The show must go on_.”

The corners of Jaehyun’s lips twist into a frown. “That’s a stupid saying. This show could cost you everything. The government hunters are looking for you. _ Everyone _is looking for you.”

“I know.” Doyoung tugs on the collar of his coat as he fixes up the final touches in the mirror. He catches Jaehyun’s eyes through their reflection, expression determined, yet a little uncertain. “This show could be how we end this feud once and for all. We lure him in. Make _ him _ come to us, so we have a home turf advantage. I’ll be prepared to take him on, now. When he’s finished once and for all, we won’t have to run ever again.”

Jaehyun squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head in disbelief. Every part of this plan is flawed, a pick of the draw that any part will go the way Doyoung planned, or not. Jaehyun honestly doubts Johnny would be so naive as to walk right into the supposed trap Doyoung is planting.

“Please, don’t be rash, Doyoung.”

“There are already people out in the stands. I can’t call the show off now. It’ll ruin our reputation.” Doyoung reaches to grab for his top hat and puts it on. Jaehyun goes to adjust the way the brim casts a shadow over Doyoung’s face, as if it could hide him from the circus’ pursuers. 

From around the corner, Taeil pops his head in. “Ready in ten?” 

Doyoung nods before Taeil disappears again to check on the rest of the cast.

“They’re scared. They don’t want to show it, but they don’t like this,” Jaehyun gestures abstractly with his arms. “Johnny _ did _ find us last time through a show.”

“All the more to go through with it, right?”

Jaehyun sighs. In the end, no amount of convincing could change Doyoung’s mind, he knows this now. And the circus has entrusted their lives to him when they joined. If Doyoung’s final call was to go ahead with the show, then so be it.

He gives up on arguing and instead, passes Doyoung his cane. “I hope you made the right choice.”

Doyoung looks in his direction once more, eyes hidden by his hat, and says quietly, “I hope so, too.”

Act one goes by well, almost too well. Nothing goes wrong, even as the lights fade to darkness to let Chenle and Jisung sprint out of the ring and to the dressing room after their first segment, and the tent flap is pulled open to let the audience head out for intermission. Nothing happens out of the ordinary, and some part of Jaehyun thinks that this is to lead the circus into a false sense of security, even though there's absolutely no sign of Johnny or Haechan anywhere near.

Doyoung is frowning as he dabs at the sweat collecting on his forehead with a handkerchief. Several of the circus members have left to their appropriate stations at the booths and tents outside, and Jaehyun has to go soon to run the carousel as well. However, he waits for a signal from Doyoung.

“There’s too many people out there,” Doyoung sighs, setting the top hat on the table of the vanity mirror. “I can’t sense anything specific. And Lucas hadn’t felt anything while doing tickets, either.”

“He could still be out there,” Jaehyun interjects. “He’s probably waiting for the opportune time to attack.”

“We can’t even say if he _ is _ in the crowd. We’d ruin the experience for our audience if we’re so cautious,” Doyoung says, shaking his head. “The first part went fine, and we still have the second half of the show. It’ll just be a waiting game.”

Jaehyun spares Doyoung one last worried glance. There it is, the weight of the world on his shoulders yet again, something Jaehyun wishes he could alleviate somehow, take half of that burden for himself to share.

Doyoung waves a hand at him, shooing him out instead. “I’m sure there’s already a long line at the carousel. Go ahead, Jaehyun. I’ll be fine.”

So Jaehyun leaves, but not before reaching forward to cup a hand around Doyoung’s neck, swipe a thumb over his cheekbone, and leave a chaste kiss on his temple.

Within a short twenty minutes, the audience is gathered back under the big top, bustling with energy as they await the second half of the show. There’s something more eerie about the way they all go mum when the surrounding lights dim than if it were any other show.

It starts with the fire. Jeno is out in the ring, equipment spread around him in a semicircle, all doused in gasoline. He lights the match and sets the two ends of his batons on fire, the flames eating at the tips as he twirls them, creating perfect, concentric circles in the dark. He then brings the end to his lips, blowing it to feign a dragon’s fire-breathing. 

He proceeds to set his sword alight, preparing for the sword swallowing trick. It goes smoothly down his throat, leaving rings of gasps and claps all through the crowd. The lights go out completely, and he’s supposed to douse out his fires with the wet towel on standby, but somehow, it doesn’t go out. He stomps down on it, but the flames refuse to die away, yellow and orange licking across his skin. With a frustrated sigh, he grabs the equipment and sprints out of the ring in hopes that the wind will lessen the blaze. 

Instead, he’s forced to run out of the green room with Jaemin hot on his heels, a bucket of water in each hand.

Doyoung frowns at that, but doesn’t comment. He watches as Lucas heads into the ring, Cheshire show-grin already donning his face as he calls for audience volunteers for his hypnotism act.

Jeno returns just as Lucas snaps, causing the five people sitting around him to slump into their chairs, asleep.

“There was something feeding the fire,” Jeno says, a little out of breath. “Energy, of some sort. Someone is messing around with the magic in the tent.”

Doyoung curses under his breath. 

“Do we evacuate?” Jaemin asks. “Things won’t look too great for our future ticket sales, though…”

“No. We finish the show until it gets out of hand.” Doyoung stretches out his fingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. They all glance in the direction of his gaze as Lucas pulls the volunteers out of their slumber with a sharp clap. “Could just be a fluke.”

Jaehyun bites nervously at his lower lip as Mark heads out for his act, the tigers following closely behind him. The tricks go well, the tigers running around the ring and hopping through the metal hoops without fail, but Jaehyun notices the way Carolina, specifically, is acting up, unable to perch on her metal stand without letting out quiet whines that only the people seated around the first row could hear.

Renjun’s already up by the tightrope platform, hopping across the scaffolding he usually resides at during the first half while working with the sound system. He easily steps onto the thin rope, arms extended to his sides as he works his way closer to the center. Jungwoo manipulates the lighting, casting Renjun’s shadow against the tent fabric to create a twin walker.

He gets through his series of tricks easily as he makes his way to the other side. The audience oohs and aahs as he lifts a leg, then slowly lowers himself into a split along the rope. Quickly, he uses the momentum of another swing of his leg to stand back up.

Jaehyun lets out a shocked gasp, however, when Renjun continues into his jumping tricks, only for his feet to miss, the boy slipping off the rope. The lights flash out in a wave, as if his fall into the netting was intentional, but Jaehyun knows after watching the same routine so many times that Renjun has never missed a beat, even when practicing new tricks. Something must have knocked him off balance, the same mysterious force that messed with Jeno’s props.

“We need to shut this down. _ Now_,” Jaehyun says hurriedly. “It _ has _ to be Johnny out there. Nobody would intentionally intervene, not at this scale.”

Doyoung looks at Jaehyun for a moment, eyes wide with something akin to fear and uncertainty, without any plan for what to do next. 

Jaehyun grabs onto his wrist and gives it a reassuring squeeze, before looking over his shoulder to catch Taeil’s eye from the wings. “Taeil, call the show off. We need to evacuate immediately.”

Taeil nods, glancing up to the rafters to find Jungwoo and Jaemin, stepping in for Renjun for sound management. But just as he’s about to wave them down, the music starts, a soft, piano melody.

“Taeil?”

Some more hand signaling, and Taeil whispers back with furrowed brows, “There’s something intercepting the system that started it up on its own accord. We don’t know what’s going on.”

The piano notes build up as more instruments join, a stronger percussion beat prominent in the background, and added bells and violin that make the piece sound more complete. Just as Jaehyun’s about to call out another order, a voice joins the melody, singing the familiar lyrics that he has heard many times before. But rather than the polished song that the different voices of each show would emit, this one is different, raw and solemn, like a heartfelt apology.

“No…”

Mark’s quiet muttering causes Jaehyun and Doyoung to both turn to him. He’s still in costume after his performance, the whip and pouch of treats hanging from his belt. Slowly, he inches as close to the curtain as he dares, barely hiding from the audience's view. His eyes are glossy as he stares at the scene, the beautiful flowing pink silks, almost see-through with the concentrated lighting. 

“Nobody has access to the microphones,” Doyoung whispers hurriedly. “Fuck, it must be—” 

“That’s Haechan’s real voice.”

“What?”

“He’s only sung to me with his real voice before. I’d be able to recognize it anywhere.” Mark then twists his head to look at Doyoung, and there are tears streaking down his cheeks already. “He’s here. They’re here.”

The silks continue to dance along with the wind, folding to Ten’s will as he twists himself into a complicated knot at the high note of the song. The audience applauds wildly as he finishes with a full butterfly drop, the spotlight flashing off just as he’s about to hit the ground. 

Mark has to be ushered away by Jeno, out of the tent and green room in his shocked state.

“Do we go?” Jisung asks quietly to Taeil, the bundle of props in his arms nearly falling out as he quivers. “My cue is coming—”

There’s another loud curse from the rafters, and Jungwoo is scaling down the metal ladder in a frenzy. “The lights. I can’t see the particles. I can’t control them.”

The spotlight flickers on again, casting a singular circle in the center of the ring where a tall water tank sits. A chorus of murmurs erupt through the crowds as they glance at the otherwise empty stage.

For a minute, nothing happens. The circus members backstage stare at the ring with pursed lips and trepidation coursing through the tense air. They wait. The silence waits in response.

“Go,” Doyoung whispers, voice hollow. “He’s waiting for the right moment.”

Jisung looks toward him, mouth open as if he’s about to protest, but is already being shoved out by Chenle, who follows him closely, hand latched tightly to the fabric of his shirt gathered at his back.

If they’re nervous, they don’t show it, Jisung throwing his hands out in a grand gesture as he introduces his assistant, who smiles widely and bows. Jisung pulls a dark blue handkerchief from the air and holds it by the two corners, showing it off to the audience to prove it’s not translucent. He folds it up and ties it tightly around his head, covering his eyes, then stretches his arms out in a line, waiting for Chenle to continue.

Chenle grabs Jisung’s arms and tucks them behind his back, making his wrists meet, then snaps a pair of handcuffs onto them. After, he pushes Jisung forward until his feet touch against the cool metal of a pair of shackles.

Doyoung watches nervously as Chenle secures them around Jisung’s ankles and winces when Chenle shows the key to the audience only to promptly toss it straight up into the air. It doesn’t come back down.

“God, what did I just _ do_? Send the two of them out to be bait? _ Fuck_.”

Jaehyun slips his hand into Doyoung’s and squeezes tightly. He doesn’t say anything.

The chain that connects the shackles around Jisung’s ankles rattles noisily as he climbs up the steps to the opening at the top of the tank one by one. It sounds like a death sentence.

When Jisung gets to the platform at the top, Chenle produces a stopwatch from his breast pocket and counts down, “Three, two, one,” and then Jisung jumps into the water. Chenle hits the button on the stopwatch with his thumb.

Jisung sinks to the bottom immediately, the shackles weighing him down like an anchor. Ten seconds pass. The audience holds their breath along with the boy. Another ten, and Jisung’s freed himself of his handcuffs, waving through the glass at the cheering crowd. Another ten, and Chenle calls out “Thirty seconds!”

There’s a flicker of the lights, and for a second they’re shrouded in darkness. Chenle looks up nervously; that’s not supposed to happen.

Another thirty seconds pass, and Chenle shouts, “One minute!” Jisung is still fiddling with the locks on his feet. It’s eerily silent, only the muffled sound of Jisung moving through the water, his orange hair floating in all directions, resonating in the tent.

Thirty more seconds, and another announcement from Chenle.

“He should be out by now,” Doyoung whispers.

Jaehyun tries to keep calm beside him. “He still has half a minute of cushion time, and he hasn’t given the help signal yet.” He readjusts their hands. Doyoung’s palm is slick with sweat.

The clock continues to tick away as they watch the boy under the water with uncertainty. 

Thirty more seconds pass by. Chenle taps twice on the glass to let Jisung know. “Two minutes!”

Jaehyun watches in confusion as Jisung stops fiddling with the shackles. He floats for a second in the middle of the tank, eyes glazed over, and then an unknown force slams his side against the glass wall. Chenle screams his name.

Jaehyun can barely see Jisung blink, and his eyes seem to recognize the blonde boy on the other side of the glass for a second before his body is thrown backwards against the wall, and he chokes, water filling his throat.

Everyone’s in a frenzy at this point, the audience murmuring in low tones that fill the room with a hum, Chenle’s cries reverberating off the glass, the cast backstage all bumping into each other as they scramble to get closer or find help. And then, the lights go out.

There’s complete darkness for a few seconds, but it feels like hours. It’s like all other sounds disappear; the screaming, whispers, and banging all dull, and all Jaehyun can hear is the sound of his own harried breaths.

Jaehyun counts the seconds in his head, waiting, _ praying, _ for the lights to turn back on. _ One, two, three, four, five— _

Light fills the tent as flames taller than he is suddenly erupt in front of the stands, the first two rows of the audience screaming as the heat emanates towards them.

A split second later, the glass tank explodes, hundreds of tiny shards falling to the ground, the water gushing out. He can hear Jisung coughing the water out of his lungs as he lies on the floor, bent over.

Chenle tries to move closer to help him, the spare key he always keeps in his back pocket already in hand. Then, the rafters suddenly give out, and a long wooden beam hurtles to the ground in between them. It narrowly misses Chenle, who has to quickly jump back to avoid it.

Half of the audience is already out the doorway, the rest pushing and scrambling to leave the vicinity.

Doyoung grabs onto Jaehyun’s bicep in a tight grip. “You remember where the ring is?”

Of course he does, he couldn’t forget even if he tried.

“I left the drawer unlocked. Hurry. The magic is building up.”

With the best of his ability, he dodges through the rest of the circus circling the stage entrance, all ready at Doyoung’s call. Jaehyun sprints across the back, past the tents and the carousel until he’s at the train tracks. He hops onto the first step of the train car and swings around the metal bar right by the entrance to launch himself into Doyoung’s room. 

Like he said, the thin drawer right under his desk is unlocked, and Jaehyun yanks it open. He shuffles through a few stray papers until he gets to the velvet box, pocketing it immediately. Just as he’s about to leave, however, his eyes catch on something else.

He grabs the revolver by the barrel, careful not to jostle it too much, before he shoves the drawer closed haphazardly and jumps out of the car.

By the time the big top comes into view, the red and white stripes were already being licked up by bright orange flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're so close to the end! any hopes, dreams, theories?
> 
> Also, if you want more Ringmaster content (behind the scenes of how we write as coauthors with direct screenshots from our Ringmaster planning docs, threads on character aesthetics, moodboards, and more) you should follow the joint twitter account! Everything retweeted or tweeted there is related to our coauthored stories, the current of which is Ringmaster.
> 
> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
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[twitter (joint)](https://twitter.com/johncanadaman)  
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	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll kill your circus off one by one, starting with your little lover boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to Ringmaster!! It's been one long year since we first published chapter 1, and the adventure we've gone on planning, writing, and interacting with our readers has been a blessing we never could have dreamed of. So thank you for sticking with us over the past 12 months, especially as we gradually come to a close...  
-johnshuaa
> 
> Tw//some mild violence & blood
> 
> working title: in which we Fight Scene epicly

Jaehyun runs faster than he ever has before, even as the stabbing pain in his chest grows more and more with every step he takes, the quick movements jabbing at his wounds uncomfortably. Adrenaline kicks in as he dodges his way around the tents. He can hear the screams and yells of terror of the audience, squeezing and piling their way out of the main tent in a frenzy. There are children’s cries, worried yells from parents, and loud cursing as the people trample out of the circus.

His breathing grows more and more ragged, and he wants to scream as he scrambles against the flow of people, searching desperately for familiar faces in the sea. All that returns are nameless features that worsen his panic. 

He eventually gets past the crowd to the entrance, latching onto the open tent flap to keep from being swept out and away. 

Flames lick at spots all around the tent: the benches, the red and white fabric, anything mildly flammable. The rest of the circus is scattered across the stage, searching for the cause of the fire. Doyoung is in the center of it all, top hat forgotten in the dressing room, his red tail-coat unbuttoned and charred at the hem. 

Then, all of a sudden, the fire moves like it’s caught onto a trail of gasoline, erupting in a line around the circus ring. They grow larger as they move, the orange-yellow spikes drawing up to human height to fence the circus in. 

Jaehyun takes a few steps back, eyes wide when he loses sight of many of the members to the inferno. He barely catches sight of a dark figure breaking through the ring of fire, as if it parted at his will, a smaller silhouette right behind him.

_ Shit_, Jaehyun curses to himself, before he’s sprinting through the dwindling crowd and around to the green room instead. He’d at least have some sort of cover hiding away backstage than being out in the open.

He flinches when he hears a startled scream from an alarmingly familiar voice, followed by incoherent yelling. It spurs Jaehyun to run faster, nearly tripping on the uneven dirt in his hurry.

However, the open flap to the backstage is blocked off by the time he makes it there, the tails of the flames nearly reaching the pointed spike of the smaller tent. 

Strangely, the fire isn’t hot enough to burn, warm and bustling with erratic energy. He reaches forward, and golden specks fly outwards from where his fingers brush against the fire. The wall thins as he pushes his hand further, enough for him to see past and into the room with an orange tint.

Before he can even think better about it, he reaches his hand all the way through, leaving a circular shape in its wake, a carved out hole where his arm went through. Sparks like that of a firecracker fly out around his hand and disappear into the air as the energy is dispersed.

The fire must also be made of magical energy, Johnny’s immaculate control over the electric air fueling this wall. And if it’s made by magic, Jaehyun might, just might, have a chance against it.

With a final spur of courage, Jaehyun ducks through the flames and under the flap of the entrance to make it into the green room. He quietly tiptoes through the abandoned dressing room. Shimmering accessories and props are strewn across the vanities and chairs, some pieces fallen to the ground in the frenzy. 

Some of the fire outside has died away, the heat centering around the stage instead in its unforgiving wall. Jaehyun can see past the flames every time they flicker, but his view wavers from the high temperatures.

Jaehyun’s hands shoot up to his mouth to keep a gasp from leaving as he watches the scene play out in front of him, and it’s as if he were behind a screen, unable to move, watching a show he couldn’t interrupt. 

Johnny has made his way to center stage, a menacing snarl across his face, arms drawn up and hands closing into fists slowly. The action is followed by a strangled yell.

Jeno has fallen to the ground in a heap, open gashes across his body, and under the dark, wet fabric sticking to his stomach, lies the deepest cut. Jaemin scrambles over, hands immediately pressing to the laceration, trying to heal it to no avail.

Johnny must be taking their magical energy. That would be the only explanation for Jeno’s loss of indestructibility, the absence of Jaemin’s healing ability. 

He works like a machine, mowing down the rest of the circus with a squeeze of his fingers, hardly breaking a sweat as he sends Yuta flying back as he charges at the hunter, and his body crashes into the bleachers with a loud crack.

Jaehyun searches everywhere for Doyoung, but all he sees is one by one, like rows of bowling pins, Johnny striking the circus members down until they can’t get up, energy completely drawn out of them to fuel Johnny’s rage and the fire around him. 

Haechan attacks just as quick physically, knocking Renjun aside with a swift kick. Renjun reaches to grab ahold of Haechan’s ankle, despite being on the floor, but Haechan quickly twists his leg, and in turn, Renjun’s arm. He lets out a cry as his grasp on Haechan loosens, dropping to his side as he clutches the broken bones. Haechan moves on to his next victim, but not before Jaehyun catches the remorse written in block letters across his face. 

Jaehyun dares to get closer, crouching down to slowly crawl ahead. Another wall of fire to get through.

He nearly screams Doyoung’s name when he spots him, hunched forward and on his knees, a hand braced against the floor as if he were going to push off the ground as leverage to stand back up. However, he remains, his body rising up and down with harried breaths.

“Watch, Doyoung,” Johnny says with a sinister laugh. He swipes his hand across like he’s landing an uppercut. The force knocks Ten to the side, and he slams into the ground in a heap right by Jaehyun. “Isn’t this so much fun?”

Doyoung whimpers as his neck gives out, unable to lift his head anymore.

“It could have been simpler. Just give me my magic back, and you won’t have to watch me kill off your little family one by one.”

“What the _ hell _ are you talking about?”

Johnny pauses for a moment, his invisible hold on Sicheng barely faltering when he turns to look at the fallen ringmaster. “Don’t bother playing dumb. You stole it, and you killed my family with it.” He says it almost nonchalantly, and then throws Sicheng aside like a sack of grain.

Doyoung lets out another noise of distress when Sicheng thumps to the ground, immediately struck unconscious on impact. “I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, Johnny.”

Jaehyun continues to watch helplessly as Mark tackles Haechan from behind, only to be elbowed right off, the sound of bone connecting with bone almost deafening. 

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Johnny says, and when he closes his fist, Doyoung curls in on himself as he gasps in pain. “I’ll kill your circus off one by one, starting with your little lover boy. And guess what—” Johnny flicks his wrist up, and Doyoung’s chin jerks up with the motion. “You get to watch as I kill him slowly, exactly like what you did to me.”

Jaehyun swallows, hard. He tests himself again, pushing his hand through the fire. However, he quickly pulls his arm back when Haechan shoves Mark’s body off of him, the tiger trainer falling to the ground to Jaehyun’s right, nearly colliding right into the flames. Perhaps it was close enough, though, because Jaehyun smells the pungent odor of singed fabric. 

Haechan stares down at Mark for a moment, who’s fallen into shock from the collision of his head against the ground, but he’s sprinting toward his brother a moment after.

“Johnny, you can’t— You promised you wouldn’t,” Haechan calls out. 

“Well, maybe it’s time for a change in plans,” Johnny hums with a quirk to the corner of his lips as he flings Lucas across the stage as if he weighed nothing more than a ragdoll.

“You said you’d only take down Doyoung. He’s the one that hurt our family, the rest haven’t done anything wrong—” 

Jaehyun works up the courage to cross completely, ducking his head and shutting his eyes as he bursts through the ring of fire in this momentary distraction. 

He stays crouched, eyes watching the center of the ring carefully, only to flinch when a hand closes around his wrist.

He doesn’t see anything at first, only feels fingers pressing into his skin, but then a hand flickers in and out of view more and more rapidly, until Ten’s revealed, kneeling by his side, breaths harried.

Jaehyun takes a survey of the area: everyone else is in a similar state, kneeling or lying on the ground from the heavy blanket of magic weighing them down. But Ten’s magic seems to be less affected than the others; he was still able to turn invisible, even if it was just for a second.

No matter how strong Johnny is, Jaehyun doesn’t think he can keep such a tight grip over so many of them at the same time. Maybe, Ten could slip out of Johnny’s grasp and he wouldn’t notice.

Jaehyun makes sure that Johnny and Haechan’s backs are still to him, then grabs ahold of Ten’s forearms and tries to think about what Renjun had described when they had experimented with Jisung’s flower trick. He imagines the energy hindering Ten’s power, imagines it cracking like porcelain and then shattering into a million pieces like the red petals that had adorned Jaehyun’s skin days before. Ten’s hands flash in and out of sight, until finally, they disappear for good.

Ten watches with wide eyes as the rest of his body gradually disappears as well, like the invisibility is consuming him from his wrists and up his arms, out from his chest to his head and knees, until he’s completely invisible.

Jaehyun grapples for Ten’s arm, wherever it may be, and pulls Ten to his feet, steadying him by the shoulders when he feels Ten stumble after getting full control of his body back. He mouths a “be careful” to the empty space in front of him before he feels Ten lightly squeeze his arm in thanks and then slip away.

Jaehyun scans the ring again, debating where to go next. Johnny’s still focused on Doyoung, Haechan now silent at his side. There’s no chance he can get all the way around to the other side of the circle without being noticed by either of them.

Sicheng is still unconscious on Jaehyun’s left. Renjun is nearby squeezing his eyes shut and curling in on himself; there’s too much magic in the air, and it’s overwhelming him. Jeno is on Jaehyun’s right, his blood starting to stain the dirt underneath him a muddy red. Jaemin’s body is slumped over him, trying to fight against the invisible restraints in order to stop the bleeding.

Jaehyun decides that it would be the most beneficial to get to Jaemin first and release him from Johnny’s hold. The two boys are just far back enough from Johnny’s view that Jaehyun might be able to reach them without alerting him.

He slips back through the flames to sneak around the outside of the ring, making his way toward the two. But just as he’s about to break through the wall again, Johnny speaks.

“Now, where’s Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun stills with his hand in mid-air, ready to part the fire. He doesn’t dare move, for fear of giving away his position.

Johnny cranes his neck around, looking for him, but thankfully doesn’t spot him.

Doyoung places his palms flat on the floor, bracing himself, and gasps out between ragged breaths, “He’s not here.” 

“Really?” Johnny inquires. “Did he finally see what you really are— a filthy liar— and run away?” Johnny chuckles slightly, low and snide. “Or maybe he couldn’t stand living with rats like you, unwanted by the world.

Doyoung only tenses his jaw in response.

“I don’t blame him. That would be the first smart choice he’s made since I met him.”

Doyoung’s staring at the floor, slick with sweat and hair drooping over his forehead, masking his expression. Jaehyun can’t see what it is, and he’s not sure he could read it even if he had a clearer view.

“You don’t know anything about him,” Doyoung bares through his teeth.

“I don’t need to know him. I know you.” If Johnny’s half-grin was taken under any other circumstance, it would have looked forgiving. “No matter though, I’ll start with someone else instead,” Johnny says, reaching into his coat’s inner lining to pull out a pistol. His eyes wander across the ring like he’s picking his preferred slab of meat at the butcher’s.

He locks in on his target. His arm extends and draws a straight line towards Mark’s forehead.

He pulls the trigger before anyone can even have a chance to protest.

Time slows as the bullet flies through the air, inching along its designated road that cannot be changed now that it's been shot. Jaehyun is vaguely aware of someone shouting Mark’s name over the rush of blood in his ears, but he can’t tell who, only notes the high-pitched voice reminiscent of the boy who abandoned the circus. Doyoung’s head snaps up at the crack of the bullet, watching in horror as it continues on its trajectory. Mark closes his eyes and braces himself for the impact.

A second passes, and nothing happens.

Mark opens his eyes. The bullet is gone. Vanished into thin air.

Then, a flicker. And another. And another.

Time starts ticking again, the clamor of screams filling the air as a body appears piece by piece.

Ten stands in the space between them like a shield, cradling Mark’s head protectively against his middle. A bright crimson flower blooms from his chest. Just below his heart runs a river of red.

Time stills again, and Jaehyun can see the disbelief on Johnny’s face over Ten’s shoulder. The hunter had underestimated them. He hadn’t planned for a successful intervention.

A moment of strength and triumph, and then Ten crumples to the ground. Doyoung screams his name; Mark can only stare in shock at the sacrifice lying in his arms, innocence draining out of his wide eyes.

“Where did you come from?” Johnny growls in irritation. 

Jaehyun’s gaze snaps from the fallen acrobat to the hunter, and he remembers where they are.

There’s no other chance besides the one he has now. With Johnny’s back to him, Jaehyun launches himself through the fire again, barreling straight toward the magic hunter. He tackles Johnny from behind, jumping onto his back, arms locked around his neck in an attempt to faze him.

Johnny lets out a surprised noise, but quickly masks it as his focus turns to wrestling Jaehyun off. He shoves his elbow back. Jaehyun dodges just in time and tightens the arm he has around Johnny’s throat.

Around them, the ring of fire begins to flicker, the wall lowering, the flames becoming smaller. Parts of the circle completely diminish, leaving empty patches of dark char and ash.

Johnny’s hands fly up to Jaehyun’s forearm, the free one grappling at his elbow, the one with the gun clinking as it moves, the cold metal pressed to Jaehyun’s wrist. 

Easily, the hunter can overpower him, but Jaehyun has only one goal on his mind. He feels Johnny bend down to ram his shoulder into his stomach for leverage to toss him off, but Jaehyun uses his other hand to grab the pistol just in time, hoping nothing gets triggered in those jerky movements. Johnny shoves Jaehyun hard enough for him to fall to the ground with a heavy thump. 

The gun is in Jaehyun’s hand. He throws it like a discus, sending the weapon flying as far away as he can muster. He doesn’t get to see where it lands, however, before Johnny’s foot presses against his sternum, hard. The heavy-duty rubber of his shoe wedges at Jaehyun’s still-healing ribs, and he lets out a pained groan.

Every time Jaehyun flinches, Johnny puts more weight on his chest. Jaehyun tries to focus on keeping his breaths even, a patterned in and out of oxygen flow instead of panicking fruitlessly.

“Jung Jaehyun, how nice to see you again,” Johnny sing-songs. “I see that Doyoung here has lied about your whereabouts, but I’ll tell you a secret.” Johnny pauses as if he’s waiting for the rest of the circus, his own mini audience for this deadly show, to concentrate on his next words. “I only continued this infiltration because I knew you were still here. You play such an important role in my plans.”

If Johnny wants to play, then maybe Jaehyun will lay his cards down too. “And why is that? What about me could be so important in your revenge scheme?”

The toe jabs dangerously close to where Jaehyun’s wounds ache the most.

“You hold such a special place in my dear friend’s heart that I think—” Johnny digs his foot harder into Jaehyun’s chest, and he lets out a cry. “—it could somehow rival the pain I felt when he took my family away from me. But you’ll just be the first domino. The rest lie around me like lambs to a slaughter.”

Johnny looks to his side to find Haechan a short distance away, both hands wrapped around the handle of his own gun. The barrel is pointed mysteriously in their direction, shifting between Johnny and Jaehyun.

“How about you do the honors and finish him off, hm?” Johnny says. “It’ll be an easy first kill for you. The rest, you get used to after a while.”

Haechan hesitates, arms shaking even more intensely than before, his eyebrows knitted together, lips pursed in a thin line. He doesn’t reply.

“Not your preferred target? We can make do, how about him—”

Johnny is cut short by another loud click that echoes and reverberates through the tent. He jerks his head toward the direction of the sound, and immediately, parts of him crumble away, especially the manic facade, like rocks of a landslide, tumbling down the mountain with no intention of stopping.

“Nobody fucking move.”

_ Taeyong_. Jaehyun had nearly forgotten that he’s been bed-ridden and resting in his room on the train all day. 

His hair is a mixture of black and red streaks, fear and anger stirring within him as he trains the gun Jaehyun had thrown off to the side, Johnny’s gun, on Haechan.

Haechan swivels his head toward Taeyong's voice, his aim slipping to him for a second before returning back to Jaehyun.

"You don't want to do something you'll regret, Haechan," Taeyong warns at the same time Johnny yells, "What are you waiting for? Shoot him, Donghyuck!"

The boy in question doesn't answer for a second, his hands shaking even more violently as his gaze flicks between the two threatening him. Then, his eyes squeeze shut, as if that would make this nightmare disappear, and he says, "That's not my name." It's not clear who he's responding to.

Another voice arises from behind him.

“Haechan.”

The boy whirls around to face his lover, that one word reminding him of the life he had built for himself from the ground up, of what he had chosen to leave behind. It’s the only word Mark has said this entire time.

Instinctively, the boy’s arms follow the twist of his body, pivoting around to face a new target. For the second time that night, death finds its aim between the eyes of the tiger trainer.

Before the boy’s mind can catch up to what his body has done, familiar, tiger-like eyes are staring back at him with shock, then something more. Eyes that once used to look at him with fondness, trust, and love are now full of pleading, desperation, and _ fear. _

It causes something inside of him to break, the sound of his heart pounding and cracking inside his chest drowning out his brother’s voice behind him.

He takes a step backwards toward the entrance, then another, and another, retreating slowly, the gun in his hands flitting indecisively all around the ring. It finally settles somewhere in the space between Doyoung and Johnny, lingering for a second before the younger Seo turns and runs through the dwindling flames and out of the tent he once called home.

There’s silence for a second, everyone staring with mixed expressions at the space where the boy they thought they knew had disappeared. 

Johnny looks as if he were trying, yet again, to school the raging inferno behind his eyes, watching his plans disintegrate piece by piece. He hides it well, and with a tight grin, says, “It looks like he’s made his final choice. The wrong one, but…”

He almost looks like he’s off in a dream land of his own for a moment, before another quick movement jolts him back to reality. He looks toward the cause of the shift of the balance in the air.

The gun in Taeyong’s hands finds a new target. Its previous owner. 

Jaehyun hears some shuffling, and out of the corner of his eyes, sees Doyoung stand slowly, face scrunched with pained effort the entire way up. 

Johnny inches his arms up, palms open in surrender. He cocks his head to the side, looking at Taeyong with an eyebrow quirked. “Taeyong, don’t bother. You wouldn’t _ actually _shoot me now, would you, love?”

“Don’t test me, Youngho.”

Johnny flinches ever so slightly at the name but remains complacent. 

“You’ve killed my best friend already.” Taeyong’s jaw clenches as he fights his emotions from showing the best he can. He glances toward Ten for a split second, hunched over and unmoving in Mark’s arms, before the sight becomes too much to bear. “I won’t let you kill anyone else.”

Johnny takes his foot off of Jaehyun’s chest, which allows him to finally take a much-needed breath of air.

“Darling—” Johnny says, daring to take a step toward him. Taeyong’s aim steadies at the movement. 

“Don’t you dare move.” His hair grows inkier, the black seeping into the red when he narrows his eyes at the hunter. 

This time, Johnny obeys. His hands fall to his sides, palms toward Taeyong to show he’s still weaponless, and by association, harmless, even. “Or else what? We both know you won’t hurt me,” he says. His smile seems too sure of himself.

“Maybe not. But I can do this.”

Nobody expects Taeyong to drop a hand from the gun handle so he can press the cold barrel to his own temple.

The hunter turns toward Taeyong fully, eyes wide with something akin to disbelief. “Taeyong, what the hell—”

“Curious, isn’t it, that you didn’t kill me the first time? You could have, you had every chance to.” Taeyong gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and his lower lip quivers. Even with the weapon to his head, though, he doesn’t seem afraid of death. Rather, he’s more afraid of Johnny and his unpredictable moves in their game of chess. He doesn’t know if Johnny will play by the rules, follow through with taking the rook as bait that leads to checkmate. 

“But you let me go. And I spent so many nights thinking, wondering why you would do something like that, let me slip right out of your fingers. I think I know now.” 

Johnny is frozen in his spot, shoulders rising and falling in quick succession with his heavy breathing.

“Taeyong, don’t be stupid,” Doyoung grunts out. He has an arm slung over his stomach, clutching at his hip. “Put the gun down.”

Taeyong ignores him. As Jaehyun sits up, bracing his weight on his arms to pick himself up off the ground, he can see the sheen of tears in Taeyong’s eyes. Jaehyun pats at his waistband. His weapon is still there, safely tucked.

“You kept me alive because you still love me,” Taeyong almost whispers. “And you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if I had somehow died at your hands.”

Johnny doesn’t speak, but he clenches his hands into fists by his side, caught between the want to run toward Taeyong and wrestle the gun out of his hands, and the fear that one wrong move could cause the trigger to be pulled.

“So I wonder—” There’s another click of the gun, of the bullet aligning itself in the chamber, and Jaehyun sucks in a breath. “—what would you do if I finished the job for you? It’s what you want, isn’t it? For Doyoung to watch his family die before him?”

“Stop,” Doyoung calls out desperately. “Put the gun down. I already lost one of you. I can’t lose you too.”

When Taeyong turns his head to look toward Doyoung, his hair is a soft, stormy gray, almost like a trick of the light. And despite it all, he has a small, accepting smile on his lips. “It’s okay. You still have the rest of your family here. And you have Jaehyun now, too.”

Doyoung shakes his head, “Don’t—”

He’s interjected by Taeyong taking a step toward Johnny. “But you don’t anymore. And that’s what scares you, isn’t it? That you don’t have a family?” Another step. “You just want to be loved.”

“Taeyong…” Johnny strains.

“I know you want to hurt him. It’s easier to blame someone else for the tragedies that happened. But this… this is too much.” 

Then, Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut, face scrunching in pain. He’s crying, tears streaking down his cheeks, and his hands tighten around the gun’s handle. He fixes his index finger, curled around the trigger.

There’s no crack of the gun being fired.

“No! No, Taeyong, stop,” Johnny cries out, and he stumbles as he tries to close the gap between them. “Stop. You’re right. You’ve always been right.”

A long breath of relief exits Taeyong’s lips, the breath that he’s been holding this entire time, and his legs give out underneath him. He collapses to the ground, and the gun clatters next to him as it falls out of his hand. 

Jaehyun grabs the gun from his waistband and barely takes the time to aim properly. He flinches as he’s met with the loud ring of gunpowder exploding in the chamber, stunned by the kickback. The bullet lands in Johnny’s calf, and he lets out a yelp as he crumbles to the floor.

The circus is revitalized in those short seconds as Johnny’s final grip on their magic slips. He clasps his hand over the bullet wound, applying pressure the best he can to keep the blood from seeping out too quickly.

The air is no longer so thin that Jaehyun can hardly inhale without struggling. He gets to his knees and stands, Doyoung’s gun loose in his hand. He watches as Jaemin sprints across the ring to Ten, dust rising as he skids to a stop, palms immediately on Ten’s chest. He draws at the energy around them, so potent now, and casts it into the unconscious acrobat. Ten doesn’t look like he’s breathing.

Jaehyun’s attention turns to Doyoung, now standing behind the fallen Johnny. The ringmaster’s eyes are closed, concentrating on the energy particles surrounding them, drawing them in. He hears Johnny suck in a breath sharply, almost choking as Doyoung absorbs the magic, the ability that the two share; from Youngho Seo’s magic stems Doyoung’s, two parts to a whole. When the all-powerful boy read that unknown spell in the forbidden wing, a barrier was crossed, one that made the impossible, possible. The human boy with absolutely no sign of magical ability was suddenly blessed with a new weapon to wield. 

Doyoung pulls and pulls until Johnny is barely able to take another breath, exhausted, on the verge of unconsciousness. He drops to his side on the ground, wincing when he lets out a pained exhale. At this point, he’s barely alive, hardly an ounce of energy left scattered through him.

Wordlessly, Doyoung extends an arm to Jaehyun, and Jaehyun passes the gun to him. 

With Johnny’s energy coursing through him, Doyoung gains twice his strength back. He has a sneer on his face as he twirls the gun. He makes sure the click of the chamber locking in another bullet is loud and clear in the silence before he points it straight at Johnny’s skull.

“It’s over, Johnny.”

The hunter is barely able to crane his neck to look at Doyoung. He’s paled from the blood loss, liquid red puddling in the sand. 

For the first time in so many years, Doyoung doesn’t see the cold, brutal killer that he’s grown to know. Instead, he sees the face of the boy he was best friends with, once upon a time, when the two of them were each other’s escape from their horrid realities. Doyoung looks down at Johnny behind the barrel of the revolver and sees the young face of a playful and loyal son, brother, and friend.

“Just get it over with, Doyoung. Please, just kill me,” Johnny bares through his teeth, pleading.

In this moment, Johnny is no longer the merciless hunter the world has gotten to know by name only. He’s no longer the last of the two living Seos, carrying the legacy of their carefully honed magic. Here, he is only human.

“Do it,” Johnny manages to hiss, full of resentment. Then, lighter, “At least if I’m dead, I’ll be with them.”

Silence, all except for Johnny’s muffled pants. Doyoung drops his arm, the one with the gun.

The man kneeling before him is no longer a threat. All the years Doyoung spent running, hiding, and living in fear have finally come to a sudden halt. There’s a thousand outcomes Sicheng could have foreseen, but standing here now, looking at the lost boy at his feet, Doyoung doesn’t think this is one of them.

The world comes to a standstill for just a moment, then he speaks.

“I’m not going to kill you, Youngho.”

The man on the ground lets out a choked sob at that, a pain far too unimaginable for anyone surrounding him. But Doyoung understands.

The stars in the heavens watch as the orphan boy they had raised crouches down to face their son. The little boys that had run through their grounds, wrecking havoc and chaos, smearing dirt on the tile floors, have grown up well.

The once lonely child who has now found a family of his own places a hand on his first brother’s shoulder. He takes a breath and smiles sadly. “I miss them too, you know.”

Johnny finally lets the tears fall freely, painting rivers down his cheeks.

Doyoung brings a hand to Johnny’s head, runs it once through the locks. It feels like their mother’s touch.

“Do you know how long I spent blaming myself for everything that happened?” Doyoung asks. “I imagine it was for the same amount of time you spent blaming yourself.”

Johnny finally speaks. “Doyoung, I—”

“It was easier for you to blame me instead,” Doyoung interjects. “I didn’t understand that at thirteen. I thought you hated me. It took me twelve years after that to learn that you didn’t. You hated yourself.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything, only keeps staring at the floor as concentric circles appear in the sand from his fallen tears. He hangs his head low in shame, or because he can’t bear to show his vulnerability, even as he’s left barren with no magic left to shelter and guard him.

Doyoung opposes him, craning his neck toward the sky. “But despite everything, here we are. Alive.”

Johnny whispers, so low that only Doyoung can hear, “I shouldn’t be.”

Doyoung doesn’t respond to him at first. Instead, he stands and looks in the direction of the stars, picturing them in his head against the red and white stripes of the circus tent. Then, he recalls, “Luna would say otherwise. She would smack you and say you should be thankful you’re not with her, that you don’t still have to deal with Suho and Sehun.”

A hint of a grin makes its way onto Johnny’s face as he recollects those forgotten memories slowly.

Doyoung continues, “We’ve traveled the country, visited places we could only have dreamed of when we were younger.” He smiles at his next thought. “Aunt Tiffany always wanted to bring us on one of her trips. I think she’d be happy to know that we’ve gone on so many.”

“She’d want us to travel the world,” Johnny muses quietly. “To move to a brand new city, a new country, and start over. It’s what she’s always wanted to do, but she always came back to us. To me.”

“You can fulfill that dream of hers, if you’d like.”

“I’d like to.” Johnny’s small smile grows bigger, and this time, his cry is one of relief.

With that, the circus, Doyoung, Johnny, liberated. Years of chasing and hurting, broken down to this single moment as Johnny finally looks up towards where the stars would be and mumbles something inaudible. Doyoung lays a hand on his shoulder, a firm grip to remind him that his long lost friend is back at last.

It’s almost beautiful to watch the two come together again, no longer as enemies, but as two sides of the same coin.

“I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

Taeyong takes his time to walk over to the center of the ring, a faint limp in every step. His hair has faded from the black to a pale, rosy red.

“Taeyong, what on earth are you talking about?” Doyoung says, bewildered. 

“Well, he’s going to need someone to watch over him as he heals and learns to live without magic and to make sure things don’t go… south again.” Taeyong stops in front of Johnny. “And I think having some company would be more pleasant. Being alone for so long is hard.” Something in the way Taeyong looks down at Johnny proves that he’s struck a chord with him, something from an unknown past.

Taeyong drops to his knees next to Johnny, and ever-so-carefully cradles Johnny’s face in his hands. It should be impossible for someone to look at another with so much love and adoration, so much forgiveness despite the years of pain, but there he is, looking at Johnny with starry eyes of hope. “Everyone deserves a second chance. I probably wouldn’t be here without one,” Taeyong says with a small laugh. “We can’t control the circumstances we’re born into, the experiences we have to live through, but we can change ourselves.”

Johnny watches him, waits for the moment Taeyong breaks away when he realizes his offer isn’t something he’d actually carry through with. Johnny waits, but all Taeyong does is run his thumb over Johnny’s cheek. Then, Johnny drops his forehead into Taeyong’s shoulder and quietly murmurs, “I don’t deserve you either.”

Jaehyun glances away, the moment a bit too intimate to watch. Instead, he walks to Doyoung’s side to offer some sort of support.

As Taeyong coaxes Johnny up, letting him lean his ragdoll weight onto him, Doyoung looks up and down the two, an odd pair to his eyes. He’s long forgoed the brewing anger, only worry etched in his features.

“Are you sure about this, Taeyong?” Doyoung asks. In the way he phrases the question, Jaehyun knows he’s trying his best to convince Taeyong not to leave. “I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“You won’t, Doyoung.” Taeyong’s gaze casts to the rest of the circus scattered across the ring. “You’ll still have everyone else. I think it’s time you let me go.”

Doyoung purses his lips. “I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“It would have happened eventually.” Taeyong wraps an arm around Johnny’s waist and sets another smile on his face, easy, certain. Nowhere does Jaehyun see the timid, fear-run man he met at first. Rather, Taeyong is absolutely glowing, radiating a newfound purpose to him, his hair a blossom pink, light and whimsical. “I’m sure about this. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life.”

Doyoung’s voice is quiet to keep from breaking. “Alright.”

It’s a friendship that runs deep, deeper than blood, even, and Doyoung knows that in the end, he’ll respect Taeyong’s choices.

“Thank you,” Taeyong says as he pulls away from Johnny. He heads toward Doyoung and tosses his arms around the ringmaster.

The two embrace, Taeyong locking his fingers around Doyoung’s back, Doyoung almost unwilling to let go. He lets out a long exhale, eyes closing for a split second, before he finally draws away. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Doyoung whispers.

“I know.”

All too soon, Taeyong tucks himself under Johnny again, almost like a final goodbye, though they weren’t leaving immediately. Doyoung stares at the two retreating figures, eyes unfocused. Then, he looks down at the back of his hands, flips them over to scrutinize his palms.

“It’s time to start anew,” Jaehyun says, which drags Doyoung’s attention to him. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t think I ever will be.”

“Well,” Jaehyun extends a hand toward Doyoung, who takes it gratefully. “Luckily, you won’t have to do it alone.”

Jaehyun’s arm is hooked with Doyoung’s, body naturally pressing toward Doyoung’s heat as they bear the midnight breeze. The moon acts as the guiding light on their stroll away from the train, toward the line on the horizon that glares a silvery white. 

Even with a jacket on and being so near Doyoung, who’s practically bursting with warmth from the excess energy in every molecule of his being, Jaehyun shivers. When he lets out a small exhale, a white puff is visible. 

Without a word, Doyoung pulls Jaehyun closer to him as they reach the river bank, where they turn to follow the flow of the stream. Jaehyun lays his head on Doyoung’s shoulder, and fights the yawn tugging at his features. 

“You know you didn’t have to come with me,” Doyoung hums, and Jaehyun can feel the vibrations echo through his body. “You’re exhausted.”

“So are you. It’s been a long day.”

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

Jaehyun tugs on the sleeve of his coat so his hand is free, then finds Doyoung’s, interlacing their fingers together. His palms are nearly burning hot against the bitter cold.

They continue down their path, curving with every bend of the river as it widens and narrows. Jaehyun can nearly see the moon arching overhead to begin its descent, considering how long they’ve been walking. 

“How is Ten holding up?” Jaehyun asks in the midst of the silence. With Doyoung pushing him straight to bed, he hadn’t gotten a chance to check in on him.

“He’ll manage. He’s always been tough,” Doyoung says. “We’re lucky the bullet didn’t hit a vital organ, though.”

Eventually, the river branches open as the freshwater runs into the ocean, and the ground underneath Jaehyun’s feet becomes less sturdy, melting into sand. As if the sea knew the importance of their visit, it quiets, the wind around them slowing. There is only the gentle crashing of waves against each other in the distance.

They stop as their toes reach the edge of the water, white foam just barely rolling past to touch the tips of their shoes. 

Though it’s far from similar to the previous cliffside beach they had been at, the coastal environment puts Jaehyun in a calm state. He thinks back to the stroll the two of them had taken that one night and realizes how far they’ve gotten since then. No more stepping around each other in a never ending waltz, their circle game coming to an end. That thought alone brings a smile to his face.

“You did say you’d bring me back to the sea, soon,” Jaehyun muses as they watch the reflection of the full moon waver. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Doyoung replies. For a moment, they stand in silence, letting the tranquility of the waves wash over them. It’s gone too soon when Doyoung turns to Jaehyun and opens his palm.

Jaehyun pulls the velvet box out of his pocket. It’s been weighing down on him all night, despite being so small and seemingly insignificant. 

When Doyoung pops the lid open, the moonlight immediately catches onto the polished silver like a moth to a lantern. He takes the ring out and stores the box away in his jacket.

Wordlessly, Doyoung closes his hand around the ring in a tight fist. He squeezes his eyes shut as he pours his concentration into this one task. 

It’s funny, that just weeks ago, Jaehyun couldn’t possibly find it in himself to believe in magic. But that twist and turn of dirt and rocks, the unassuming road up to the circus, has changed everything.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen as the energy around him pulses. The world is a system, and the magical energy is its blood, pumping through the body in order to survive. 

The energy Doyoung had pulled from Johnny slowly seeps out of his body, shooting down his arms and into the hand with the ring. The magic builds and builds until it cannot any longer, and it forces Doyoung to unfold his fingers.

The silver ring floats for just a moment, a ball of translucent gold surrounding it, before the small accessory absorbs the light, so quick Jaehyun thinks he might have imagined this entire scene. The ring falls back into Doyoung’s open palm.

“I suppose this is it,” Doyoung says quietly. “A little underwhelming, if I’m honest.”

The air around them is far cooler all of a sudden; Jaehyun can feel the shift in his core.

“This is it,” Jaehyun repeats. The two of them glance down at the ring again, now filled with magic, Seo magic. Something so big manifesting in something so small.

Doyoung walks forward until the water is high enough to brush over the tops of his shoes. He closes his hand and winds his arm back, and in a swift movement, hurls the ring into the ocean, the silver glimmering one last time before landing in the midst of the dark mass. It’ll sink into the blue until it reaches the sea floor, sand covering it like buried treasure, and in years, long forgotten. He stares at the sky even after it’s long gone.

“We’re finally safe.” Jaehyun takes a few steps forward so he’s by Doyoung’s side again. “Are you at peace now?”

Without a hint of hesitation, Doyoung replies, “I am.”

“Good.”

Jaehyun turns and brings his hands up to cup Doyoung’s face. His palms are still cold, and it makes Doyoung flinch slightly at the touch. Doyoung’s eyes look darker in the night, but his other features are highlighted by the bright moonlight. Jaehyun brushes his thumb over Doyoung’s cheek. 

Before Jaehyun can lean in, Doyoung already has his arms wrapped around Jaehyun’s back, pulling him in so they’re chest to chest, and with a tilt of his chin, presses their lips together in a warm kiss against the biting cold. 

Jaehyun lets his eyes close, the gentle lull of the sea fading into the background as the world becomes smaller and smaller until it is constituted of only the two of them. Two figures, molded against one another as one, in the safe embrace of each other, no longer having to fear what the world has in store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 1 year anniversary to Ringmaster. Can't believe we started on this journey exactly a year ago. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with us since the very beginning, who's joined us in the time between, and who are reading this for the first time right now. We're almost there.  
-ohcanadaman
> 
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	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m staying, Doyoung. This is home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it all comes to an end… Stay tuned for the end notes for a big announcement!
> 
> Working title: the world is our oyster (aka the fiale because we cannot spell)

The docks are fairly empty as they walk along the paved street of the pier. Here, the ocean is not as blue, favoring an almost dark green from the build-up of algae and barnacles on the poles of the dock. There’s a metallic smell added to the salted breeze, and honestly, it makes Jaehyun wince a little.

At the end of the dock, a fishing boat is unloading its morning catch. Men in knee-length rubber boots move back and forth between the deck and the row of ice boxes, bringing in silver-scaled fish on hooks and stacking them in their respective containers.

They walk further along the waterfront until they reach the terminal building, a small, square, wooden structure at the beginning of the second dock. Its pale blue paint peels at each wooden panel, the edges splintered. Considering the few passengers Jaehyun has spotted so far, he assumes that the folks in this town hardly take the ferry, thus the dilapidated appearance of the whole area.

There’s a short line by the ticket booth, so Jaehyun and Doyoung stick to the side against the wall the best they can. The fishermen wheel their catch out of the pier and to their trucks to be transported to their customer stores.

Jaehyun glances towards the ticket booth again, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall. A lady with her two young children is just moving away from the window. A young boy and girl, twins, maybe, each carry a piece of luggage as their mother hurries them down the dock. He hears the whistling of a steamboat, and the mother grabs ahold of her children, one in each hand, racing to board their ferry.

Jaehyun’s gaze shifts to the next movement that catches his attention.

Come to think of it, Jaehyun hardly knows Johnny, having only met him a handful of times even over the few days he had stayed with the circus as he healed. He was with Taeyong the majority of the time, hidden away in a car that Jaehyun couldn’t work up the courage to visit.

Still, Jaehyun can easily tell the difference between the Johnny that infiltrated the circus days ago and the Johnny that now stands by the ticket booth, the brim of his fedora cutting over over his face to hide him. He’s drowning in his black topcoat, no longer fitting it proudly. Without his magic, he’s lost decades of his identity, his life that has been built upon his ability to mold the energy around him, all _ gone. _

Johnny drops a few bills in exchange for two paper tickets, and he and Taeyong pick up their respective leather cases to hand to a crew member in charge of loading luggage onto the incoming ship. He takes the cases and hauls them onto a wheeled cart. Then, Johnny and Taeyong head toward where Jaehyun and Doyoung reside by the edge of the pier’s walkway.

“Where are you headed?” Doyoung asks civilly, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. He too has a matching fedora to his suit, but he doesn’t tilt it down as he does with the top hat of his ringmaster ensemble. He glances at the pair across from him, pushing off of the wall.

“Wherever Taeyong wants,” Johnny says. He leans against his gold-handled cane, keeping his weight on his good leg. Taeyong has an arm wrapped around his elbow, too, to keep him steady.

Johnny hadn’t been able to be properly healed all the way by Jaemin’s magic, the energy around him disturbed and electric, like it wanted to attach onto Johnny but couldn’t. Jaemin had been able to extract the bullet and stitch the wound together, according to Taeyong’s reports, but magic was no use on Johnny as of now. 

“Everywhere. I want to see everything,” Taeyong answers. His eyes are bright, sparkling. He has kept the blossom pink hair, pale like blush; the color doesn’t waver in accordance to his emotions. He can’t seem to keep the excited grin from his lips though, nearly bouncing by Johnny’s side. “I can hardly wait.”

Jaehyun knows that anticipation well. Whereas Taeyong has already traveled this country far and wide with the circus, ready for someplace new, Jaehyun has yet to visit everywhere from coast to coast. And now, they each get their own opportunity to explore the unknown. It makes Jaehyun’s heart beat faster just thinking about it.

Doyoung lets out a long sigh before a genuine smile is also decorating his face. “Good. I want the best for you, Taeyong.”

Taeyong scoffs jokingly. “Yeah, yeah.” The scoff hides a quiet sniffle from his part.

“He’ll get the best money has to offer, and what I have to offer,” Johnny says, on a more serious note. He looks at Doyoung with something akin to determination, a pledge. “Nothing less.”

“I’m holding you on that.” Doyoung looks back at Johnny, but for the first time in a long time, he seems like he believes and trusts him. “Give him the world that I couldn’t provide.”

“Doyoung…” Taeyong says.

“No more hiding around for you,” Doyoung says, the solemn voice gone, back to something more playful. “The world deserves to have you, and you deserve to have the world.”

Taeyong covers his mouth with his palm to try and hide his crying, but a stray tear escapes before he can catch it. Then, he dives into Doyoung’s arms for a tight embrace.

Jaehyun watches Taeyong heave a small sob into Doyoung’s shoulder, and Doyoung pats reassuringly at Taeyong’s back.

“You haven’t been yourself since the accident all those years ago,” Doyoung mumbles into Taeyong’s neck. “But you’re back, now. And you’re going to be so, so happy.”

“I will. I am.” Taeyong reluctantly pulls away from the hug, but keeps Doyoung at arm's length. “God, I’m going to miss you so much. And the circus.”

“I’ll send pictures,” Jaehyun offers. He pats at his hip, but his camera isn’t hanging off of his shoulder by its leather strap as usual. Taeyong giggles at that and nods.

“And letters,” Jaehyun adds. “I think the boys will have fun dictating what to write to you.”

“I’d like that a lot.” Taeyong glances up at Johnny, and again, his eyes are brimming with stars. Taeyong drops his hands from Doyoung and returns to Johnny’s side.

Jaehyun glances past the two toward the docks and sees that a large ferry, perhaps a cruise, is anchoring itself on the very end of the concrete pier. Some of the crew members in matching black, golden-accented uniforms are calling towards each other, and the boat blasts its horn.

“That’s our ship,” Johnny says. He leans into Taeyong instinctively. “We’ll need to get going soon.”

Doyoung nods wordlessly. He looks down to his feet for a moment, a little unsure what to do, what to say. He freezes when he finds Johnny’s right hand extended to him, open and bare, no longer covered by the fingerless black glove he always has on.

Doyoung blinks at the hand a few times before he takes it.

“Thank you, Doyoung,” Johnny says. “You gave me a chance when I didn’t deserve it. I owe my life to you.”

Doyoung tightens his hand around Johnny in a trusting grasp. “You did the same for me before. I suppose we’re even now.”

The two smile at each other, warm, no more hostility and anger. Jaehyun can see it in the way they carry themselves; they have played the game the world set upon them and lost once, but now, they’ve beaten it. Finally content, no more need for revenge. Equals, like they were more than a decade ago.

The horn blares again, signally its arrival. 

“I wish you two and the circus the best,” Johnny says as he drops his hand from Doyoung and proceeds to take Taeyong’s instead. Jaehyun notices his glove peeking out of his jacket pocket, forgotten.

“And I wish you two the best as well.”

“We’ll visit!” Taeyong beams. 

As Johnny and Taeyong turn to walk down the pier, Jaehyun notices Doyoung letting out another heavy breath. It’s a little bittersweet, the goodbyes. They look happy, though, and Doyoung couldn’t ask for much more.

They stay by the terminal building as the two figures grow smaller and smaller as they walk down the dock. The boarding process has started, and they join the line waiting for a crew member to check over their tickets.

Taeyong and Johnny look towards Jaehyun and Doyoung one more time, and Taeyong waves enthusiastically. Doyoung waves back. Then, they’re walking up the gangway and onto the boat, disappearing once and for all.

Doyoung stares for another minute in the general direction of the dock, gaze unfocused, before he sets his jaw and shakes his head. He looks up at Jaehyun and is met with a comforting smile. Doyoung himself can’t help the corners of his lips from lifting as well.

This time, watching the circus pack up the tents and props looks so much more final that Jaehyun finds it difficult to do his part in the cleaning process.

It’s like every tent pole he disassembles and stores away, every table and chair puts in the back car means they’re one step closer to closing. And honestly, maybe his gut feeling is right. Maybe that last ruined show _ was _their last show, unknowingly.

“What’s got you making _ that _ face?”

Jaehyun automatically becomes aware of the muscles tugging the corners of his lips down in a strained frown. He sucks in his cheeks to relax those muscles, to make his face neutral. He looks up from his work of pulling the rods of the tent apart to Taeil, who has an amused expression on his own face.

“It’s just… hard to let go of some of this stuff, I suppose,” Jaehyun tries to explain, though he’s sure his words hardly convey his current whirlwind of emotions. “Is this it? Was that previous show really the last one?”

Taeil looks at him with a blank expression for a moment. “The last show?”

Jaehyun nods, grim.

Taeil stops himself from folding the thick fabric of the tent in his arms and puts it on the floor. Then, he’s laughing, hearty chuckles filling the air.

“We don’t break that easily,” Taeil finally manages past his laughter. “Even if we were all nearly killed. It’ll take much more than that. I think with Doyoung’s resilience, we could have all our equipment burnt down, our train stolen, and all of our performers injured, and we’d still manage to produce a show within a few months again.”

Jaehyun can feel the quickened beating of his heart begin to ease.

“We’ll be laying low for the time being,” Taeil continues, and he picks up the tent fabric to get back to folding, deft and efficient from years of practice. “Until the bounty over our head clears, we’ll likely just take a hiatus. It looks like we need it, too. Kun hasn’t stopped whining about having to redo all of the costumes now that they’ve been dirtied. Apparently, you can’t just wash the fabric.”

“I got a whooping after I dropped my jacket in the dust once,” Yuta yells from a short distance away, hauling a box in his arms, on the way towards the train. “He had to remake the whole thing because the dirt went under the rhinestones or something bizarre like that.”

Taeil laughs again as Yuta recreates the face of him being strangled by Kun for that screw up before returning his gaze to Jaehyun. “Johnny had his half of the problem taken care of, which makes my life a hundred times easier. We’ll just be waiting for the news of the unfortunate death of the government’s most prized magic hunter. Johnny will be able to live out his life elsewhere without worry from now on.”

Jaehyun bags the rod pieces and places them in their respectful container. “Won’t that just cause more ruckus in the community?”

“Well, it’s the best he can do. It’s hard to predict how the public will respond, humans _ and _ other magic users.” Taeil stuffs the folded tent into the container as well and slides its lid on top. “In the meantime, I have piles of paperwork to deal with in terms of insurance and publicity. I pray that nothing like this happens again.” He sighs, exasperated by the thought of having to read through and fill out those stacks of hefty packets.

Once all the cargo boxes are set to the side, the two of them sit atop the storage unit surface to take a short respite. Jaehyun spots Lucas, Renjun, and Jungwoo not too far away, the trio arguing about something incoherent again. Lucas has a dopey grin on his face as Renjun shoves him away by his chest, and Jungwoo is trying his best to hide his giggles.

Jaehyun’s chest feels warm and fuzzy seeing the circus’ energy so high, so full of spirit and happiness even though it’s only been a few days since their near extermination. The banter all around him, from Chenle chasing Jeno around with a random stick he found by the forest, to Jaemin giving Jisung a piggyback ride through the half-disassembled maze of tents, is all bustling and lively.

Soon, Sicheng joins Jaehyun and Taeil to help move the wooden cargo boxes onto the storage trains. The three lift the boxes onto a rolling cart to ease their transport. Jaehyun pats his hands together when they’re done to get rid of the wood dust that has gathered on his palms.

“So, where are we headed?” Jaehyun asks no one in particular. 

Taeil and Sicheng glance at each other, communicating something wordlessly. Jaehyun blinks.

“Somewhere far from here,” Sicheng finally replies. He has on a sad smile, Taeil sharing a similar one.

Taeil, Jaehyun could probably pin on Doyoung being mysterious about his destination choices, but Sicheng must know; it’s in the way he’s looking at Jaehyun with something close to pity, something bittersweet.

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows at the two, but both of them keep mum.

“Alright, then,” Jaehyun huffs before turning on his heel. “I’ll just go help some of the others pack up then.”

The train whistles twice, signaling that there are only fifteen minutes left till departure time. Jaehyun places the last of the boxes at his feet in one of the cargo cars, then slides the door closed after he hops outside. The time is ticking, but there’s still someone he wants to see first.

Jaehyun walks down the length of the train and stops at the third car from the locomotive. The door is slightly ajar and through it, he can see the shadow of a figure shift from its sitting position to lie down and throw the covers over its head. Smiling in amusement, Jaehyun opens the door just enough so he can slip inside and say, “I know you’re not sleeping.”

Ten throws the blanket off with much more force than someone who’s recovering from a bullet wound should, but he’s always been resilient.

“You don’t know that.” Ten glares at him, but there’s no real malice in his voice.

“Right,” Jaehyun answers with a small laugh. 

Ten has a room to himself, like Doyoung. But unlike Doyoung’s, his desk is completely clear, whereas Doyoung’s is covered by the map and littered with papers. There’s also a plush armchair in the other corner instead of rows of filing cabinets.

Jaehyun chooses to pull the wooden chair from the desk and drags it a few feet over to Ten’s bedside, setting it with the backrest to his chest so he can rest his arms on top. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better,” Ten responds nonchalantly.

Jaehyun notices it’s the first time since he’s met him that Ten’s given him a straightforward answer. It’s a change he’ll have to get used to, but he hopes it doesn’t stop here.

“Jaemin said it might scar, but there’s nothing I can do about that,” Ten elaborates.

Jaehyun gives him a small smile as a sort of apology. “Well, it’s good that you’re feeling better.”

Ten hums in agreement then is quiet for a while, playing with the edge of his blanket. When he’s ready to speak again, he looks up and straight into Jaehyun’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he says. “For… whatever it is you did.”

“You’re welcome.” Jaehyun stretches his arms out in front of him for a second and looks at his hands, turning them back and forth curiously. “I still don’t really know what I did either, but I’m glad that I could help in that moment.”

Ten stares at him for a bit too long, a bit too intensely, and Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.

“What?”

Ten takes a deep breath and huffs out through his nose. “You scare me, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun doesn’t know how to respond to that, just brings his arms back in and crosses them over the chair again.

“It scares me to imagine how things would have been different if you were never here, if Doyoung had shot you that first day. I wonder, would we have had a different story? Would Johnny have found us sooner or later even if you weren’t here to be his leverage? Maybe Taeyong wouldn’t have left. Maybe I would have died. Maybe we’d all be—” 

Ten cuts off and looks away, thinking of the other unknowns. “I don’t like how much you’ve impacted my life, Jaehyun, when I never asked you to.”

Ten sounds bitter, and Jaehyun is about to apologize, until Ten turns back to face him. The look on Ten’s face stops Jaehyun from responding. 

“But I’m grateful, nonetheless.” Ten grins, smaller, tired and worn, but still sincere.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun whispers.

“I hope you’re happy, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s eyes light up in response. “I am. And what about you?”

“I’m okay.” Ten smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I wasn’t ready for Taeyong to go so soon.” He laughs lightly, but it’s nothing like his usually boisterous laughs, like the ones he had shared with Doyoung and Taeyong the day they had been playing around on the trapeze rig. “I don’t suppose I would ever be ready, though.”

Jaehyun taps his fingers on the wooden backrest, gently thrums filling the air. “You know this is hard on him too. He’s off to do greater things and go on bigger adventures now.”

“I know,” Ten snaps, a little loud compared to his earlier demeanor. Then softer, “I know. It was his choice.”

They both don’t say anything for a minute, letting the silence wash over them comfortably.

The sound of the metal door sliding open disrupts the peaceful ambiance, and both of their heads turn towards the man coming in. Jaehyun notices Ten visibly brighten at the sight, his eyes lighting up and his smile more genuine.

“Kun!” Ten exclaims. 

“Hello, Ten. Jaehyun,” Kun says, acknowledging him. Then, he turns back to Ten and raises the book in his hand in the air, waving it slightly. “I figured I’d keep you company for the ride.”

“Don’t tell me it’s Shakespeare again.” Ten playfully rolls his eyes.

“It is,” Kun confirms, taking a seat in the armchair on Ten’s other side.

“So what’s on the agenda today? Fairies? Star-crossed lovers? Or a new tragedy?” Ten teases.

“If you stay quiet, you’ll find out,” Kun chastises. He settles in the armchair near the corner of the room, and Jaehyun shifts his own chair so he’s not facing anyone in particular. A bystander.

Jaehyun smiles at their banter. It reminds him of the younger ones he shares a room with when they play.

Kun flips open the book cover and starts to read, his gentle voice filling the air, and Jaehyun rests his chin on his forearms as he listens. In the back of his conscience, he can hear the toot of the train’s whistle three times in succession; it’s time to leave. He doesn’t move to exit and go back to his car, though. He stays right where he is and listens to the lull of Kun’s voice as he reads through the Old English text.

It’s going to be a long journey. He might as well get a story out of it.

The train ride, yet again, takes far longer than Jaehyun anticipated. He’s lost count of the hours and guesses that a night or two may have passed, but he doesn’t quite remember as the vehicle slowly comes to a halt. 

Jaehyun’s legs are jelly after not standing on real ground for however many hours he’s been on the train. He pulls open the door to his car excitedly before the scene in front of him makes him freeze.

It’s startlingly different to see only the field in front of him, flat and empty, just yellowing grass because of the autumn-almost-winter time of year. He remembers it better with the big top in the center of it all, the sun with the tents and stands and carousel orbiting it in their own circus Milky Way. 

“Jaehyun?” Kun calls out from behind him. 

“What is this supposed to mean?” Jaehyun says without looking back, still caught on the empty field. 

“I—”

“Did you know?”

He hears Kun sigh. “He told a few of us, yes.”

Jaehyun bites back his next words. This is between him and Doyoung, not Kun, not Sicheng, not Taeil. He jumps off of the train car and storms along the side of the train towards the locomotive.

Jaehyun taps his foot impatiently after banging twice on the door of Doyoung’s car. He tries his best to school his irritation and mild panic.

Doyoung glides the door open, and he looks tired, the back of his hand rubbing under his eyes, barely aware of Jaehyun’s presence.

“What is this supposed to mean?” Jaehyun says, almost shouts, and Doyoung jerks and the sudden noise. Jaehyun invites himself into the car, pushing past Doyoung’s shoulder for good measure. “Are you kicking me out?”

“What— No, why would you think that—”

“Then explain to me,” Jaehyun spins around to look at Doyoung by the door, still frozen from Jaehyun’s abrupt outburst. “Why the hell did you bring us back to my hometown when you so _ clearly _explained, several times, may I add, that you never visit the same place twice?”

Doyoung stares at Jaehyun, jaw slightly agape.

“Well?” Jaehyun asks again. 

“I thought you might have wanted to go home,” Doyoung says. He scratches at the back of his neck sheepishly. “A lot of troublesome things have occurred since you joined, and I just assumed you might prefer not to keep up with this sort of lifestyle—”

“Have you remembered nothing of what I told you?” Jaehyun scoffs. “I don’t like living such an idle and boring life. Never did, never will.”

“But it’s dangerous here—”

Jaehyun can’t help himself. He has kept it to himself for so long, the desire, the constant yearn to reach out to Doyoung and pull him in. This time, he gives into that desire and takes a few steps forward, a hand grabbing the door to slide it shut. Then, he pulls Doyoung by the elbow, and Doyoung stumbles from the sudden force. 

They’re chest to chest, and Jaehyun can feel Doyoung’s quickened breaths fanning across his face. 

“Please, just stop talking.”

Jaehyun catches Doyoung’s lips with his, a soft kiss like the ones they’ve shared before, slow and languid. He wraps an arm around Doyoung’s waist, hand splayed on the small of his back.

Then, Doyoung reacts, almost explosively, and it catches Jaehyun completely off guard.

Suddenly, there are hands everywhere. Jaehyun feels it on his waist, his shoulders, his cheek, moving up and down his body over and over again. He feels it all. Every featherlight touch is heavy on his skin.

Doyoung licks further into his mouth, and Jaehyun caves. He lets Doyoung take him entirely, spinning them around and backing Jaehyun into the wall. He lets Doyoung kiss him until they can’t breathe.

“Dear God, Jaehyun,” Doyoung whispers when he pulls away, his lips ghosting over Jaehyun’s jaw. He presses more kisses down the strip of his neck, and Jaehyun can only inhale deeper when Doyoung nibbles on the skin under his ear.

Jaehyun’s hands simply move up to grab at Doyoung’s hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. He’s pliable under Doyoung’s care, body aching to be even closer to him. It’s a foreign feeling that he only trusts Doyoung to take on.

Doyoung returns to work at Jaehyun’s lips, sucking and biting, and Jaehyun is ready to explode. When Doyoung pulls away, Jaehyun can see the utter pleasure in his wide eyes. 

“You make me want everything I can’t have,” Doyoung mumbles into Jaehyun’s mouth, and Jaehyun tilts his head back. It gives access to his pale throat, which Doyoung eagerly moves to, to kiss and bite.

Jaehyun nearly laughs, a breathy chuckle escaping instead. “And what’s that?”

Movement stops. Doyoung brings himself back up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “You.”

“Who says you can’t have me?”

When Jaehyun looks at Doyoung’s eyes, he can still see a hint of fear in them, and he rubs his thumb along the sliver of exposed skin at Doyoung’s waist, trying to comfort him.

Doyoung sighs. “Don’t you want to go home, Jaehyun?”

“I—” Jaehyun stares at him, but Doyoung’s completely serious. Jaehyun lets out an airy laugh as he settles his hands on Doyoung’s hips. “This is home, Doyoung. I don’t know what gave you the idea otherwise.”

“Oh.”

“I’m staying, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says. 

Doyoung blinks, once, twice.

Jaehyun can’t help but laugh again. Then, he leans forward to place a peck on Doyoung’s jaw and mumbles. “I’m staying here with the circus.” Another peck, this time on the corner of his mouth. “With you.”

Doyoung stares at Jaehyun for a moment, eyes impossibly wide. “You’re certain…”

“Do I have to say it one more time?” Jaehyun presses one more chaste kiss to Doyoung’s lips this time.

“I’d like you to, honestly.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes before squeezing Doyoung’s hips. “I’m staying here with you, Doyoung. I’m not going to leave.”

Doyoung smiles, a little quirk of the corners of his mouth, before his eyes are fixated back on Jaehyun’s lips. He grabs the collar of Jaehyun’s shirt and jerks him forward. He takes his time to kiss Jaehyun now that he has full control, and Jaehyun lets himself melt into Doyoung’s hold.

By the time Doyoung pulls back, they’re both panting. Their gazes are scattered, Jaehyun focusing on the curve of Doyoung’s clavicle. The only sound in the empty car is of the heavy breaths shared between them.

It’s interrupted when Doyoung closes his eyes for a moment, before he looks at Jaehyun with something almost unreadable. And then, he says, “I love you, Jaehyun.”

The words take a few seconds to process. Jaehyun moves a hand up, fingers under Doyoung’s jaw and thumb brushing over his cheekbone in a smooth, repeating pattern. He thinks he might have grinned without realizing it, that short sentence sending a wave of tingles through his body.

“It’s your turn to say that again,” Jaehyun murmurs with a hint of mischief as he finally looks Doyoung in the eye.

Doyoung does as told. “I love you,” he repeats, and like Jaehyun, he presses short kisses all over Jaehyun’s face, his neck, as he iterates each word one by one. 

Jaehyun hums when Doyoung dives lower to nose at the junction where his jaw meets his neck, giggling from the ticklish sensation. He sucks in a breath when Doyoung places another kiss there instead.

“I love you, too,” Jaehyun says with a laugh, hands tightening on Doyoung’s hips, then gliding up along his sides. 

One more chaste peck to his lips.

Jaehyun thinks that this, the two of them tangled in each other’s arms, smiling at each other stupidly, is something he will cherish forever. 

Doyoung surges forward again, and Jaehyun is glad that this is the place he chose to call home.

It would be a waste if they came all the way here, with Doyoung breaking his rule of traveling to a city twice, for Jaehyun to not properly appreciate it. Thus, he finds himself walking down the streets of his childhood, past the pristine white mini-mansions that lead into suburban white picket-fence houses on his way into the center of the town.

He passes by the grocery store his mother used to shop at, remembers the taste of the semi-sweet chocolate chips they sell that he’d steal from the bag as he watched his mother bake, and debates going inside until he remembers it is probably best if he doesn’t risk running into anyone he knows.

The post office is just down the street; it’s less of a happy memory. Letters that were sent week after week to his sister halfway across the world, returned at first, until one day, they stopped coming. It’s a bittersweet memory, but he still cherishes the few letters he received. Jaehyun knows Krystal’s probably still off traveling the world. Now he gets to as well.

Then, there’s his publishing firm, a taller building compared to its neighbors, symmetrical with the rectangle windows lined up, four wide, another five tall. He’s spent most of his life here. Mornings before school, biking here at the crack of dawn to load the basket of his bicycle with the fresh print, then pedaling his way around town as quickly as he could so he’d make it to his classes on time. Then, in his teenage years, a summer as a personal assistant to one of the higher-ups of the company, his work consisted of taking out the bin and bringing a fresh brew of tea to his boss every few hours. And finally, working here full-time. When he reaches the building, he stands in front of the double doors and stares up at the tall building. He remembers the nervous churning in his stomach on his first day as he walked in for the first time as someone worth noting: a news reporter.

Jaehyun continues on his way, passing the darkroom studio where he used to get his film developed, a diner that’s been there for decades that he only enjoys the coffee of, and the barbershop his father frequented. It’s the smell, though, that finally brings him to a stop at one of the crossroads.

Jaehyun stands in the middle of the sidewalk, looking through the glass window at the colorful candies all perfectly lined up in clear, plastic display boxes on the other side. Candy was a luxury in his childhood, something he only got on special occasions or when he found a lost piece of spare change on the ground that he pocketed when no one was looking.

When he opens the door, a tiny bell rings, signaling his entrance. The sweet smell of sugar immediately intensifies, and something else, creamy and buttery, floods his senses as well. The shopkeeper greets him and tells him to take his time browsing, but Jaehyun already knows what he wants.

“Two bags of caramel cubes, please,” he says curtly.

The shop makes them in-house, and they were his favorite candies as a child. He wants to make sure he doesn’t forget the taste before he leaves for good. His younger roommates back at the circus will probably love them, too.

After the shopkeeper rings him up, Jaehyun bids him farewell and sets off again, two bags of childhood memories in hand.

It takes another eight minutes for him to finally reach his destination.

The key that’s been sitting at the bottom of his satchel for the past few months fits perfectly into the lock on his door. When he steps into his apartment, he’s surprised to see that nothing seems to have been touched considering he’s been gone for so long and hasn’t paid rent. The mattress on the floor serving as his bed is still in the same corner, the chipped dishes are all in their respective cabinets, and most importantly, his corkboard is intact.

Jaehyun makes his way over to his desk, where he’s spent hours pouring over texts and writing until his hand cramped, and looks at the wall above it. Pushpins are littered across the corkboard, barely holding the stacks of papers in place. Jaehyun sets his bags down on the desk then removes the pins one by one, stacking the papers on top of each other and reading their headlines and reviews as he goes.

_ Mysterious new show by Cirque des Perdus rises to popularity, but no one seems to be able to recall the show! _

_ Travelling circus’ path pinpointed: plan your next visit! _

_ The circus of dreams, as we call it, in front of us but just out of reach. _

Once every last paper has been taken down, Jaehyun stuffs them into an empty file box and places the caramels on top. He does one final sweep of the run-down apartment with his eyes to make sure he isn’t missing anything, then picks up the box and makes his way out the door. 

He’s closing the door behind him, ready to leave, when his neighbors come bounding up the stairs. He doesn’t know them well, just that they’re a working family of three: a father, a mother, and their young daughter.

When the little girl bounces up the last step, he offers her a smile as he waits for them to pass by, not wanting to get in their way with the large object in his hands. While the mother, tired and overworked, goes right past him without batting an eye to get to her door, the little girl stops just in front of him, staring up at him with wide eyes. Jaehyun wonders for a moment if she recognizes him and is wondering where he’s been, but then he realizes she’s looking at something else.

Jaehyun sets the box down carefully on the ground by his side and crouches down so he can look her in the eyes. He grabs one of the two bags of caramels and holds it out in front of her.

“Don’t tell your mother,” he whispers.

The little girl hesitates for a second, staring at the candy with wide, disbelieving eyes. Then, she snatches the bag with giddy delight and stuffs into her jacket’s pocket, safe and away from sight, before running through the open door into her apartment.

Jaehyun knows it’s probably a lot of candy for a kid that size, but he’s had this dessert enough times; he’d like other children to be able to taste them as well. And besides, one bag is plenty for him and all of his roommates to share. He’s afraid of how the boys might act if they consume too much sugar at once.

Shaking his head at the thought, he picks the box back up and makes his way down the steps and out of the building.

He rounds the corner and slides into the alleyway, a stray cat darting away at the sound of his footsteps. The trash chute empties out into a large, metal bin against the wall, already half full. Jaehyun places the bag of caramels safely on the ground next to him, then upturns the box over the container, watching as the hundreds of papers and loose articles cascade down into a messy pile. Years of research, gone in ten seconds. But those papers mean little to him now, nothing but ink on thin pages.

He grabs the bag of sweets and makes his way through the streets of this town, and back toward home.

Jaehyun looks at the familiar path, the simple twist of dirt and rocks, nothing out of the ordinary, leading up to the circus train. He knows this road like the back of his hand, having walked up it many times. And the most memorable being the time heading up to the circus grounds, filled with curiosity. 

He walks up the road alone, bag of candies in hand, satchel across his body, and nothing more. No weight of his camera, not notebook tucked in his bag, both of those prized possessions sitting comfortably and safely on Doyoung’s desk.

As he climbs the hill, he can see colorful hair dashing from side to side, and when Jaehyun gets closer, he sees that it’s Chenle and Jisung, sprinting around happily, playing whatever new game they’ve come up with. He sees Yuta with his herd of horses, trotting laps around the field after the long train ride, and Jeno and Jaemin setting out some tables for lunch. Taeil and Kun are pulling out bags of bread and sandwich fillings to place on the tables. 

Then, Jaehyun sees Doyoung at the edge of it all, watching the rest of the circus with a content smile on his face. The closer Jaehyun gets, the more he’s able to hear the chitter-chatter, the many conversations scattered all across the area. 

This is it. This is what he’s been searching for.

Jaehyun walks to Doyoung, who welcomes him back with a wide grin. 

“You have everything you need?” Doyoung asks, glancing at him once down. He spots the bag pinched between his hand and asks, “Candy?”

“Want one?”

“We can pass it around as dessert later,” Doyoung says.

“Alright.”

Jaehyun sidles next to Doyoung and looks out at the rest of the circus. They stay silent, just bathing in each other’s presence for a moment. 

“There’s not much back there for me to claim,” Jaehyun hums after a while. He rests his head on Doyoung’s shoulder comfortably and closes his eyes.

“I have everything I need right here.”

* * *

Doyoung doesn’t schedule for them to go too far north in the winter months very often. It’s difficult to set up the tents and stands when it’s freezing outside, and the fair wouldn’t do as well as it usually does during intermission. Despite the protests from the circus members over the years, he always listed off reason after reason he keeps them in more southward through the winter. So, it’s quite the wonder that they are met with snow one early morning, the sun hardly noticeable behind the pale gray haze along the skyline. 

Chenle and Jisung hop out of their car at the crack of dawn and let out squeals so loud they wake up the rest of their car mates and even some of the inhabitants in their neighboring train wagons. When they hop off of the raised floor to the ground, there is left the imprints of two pairs of boots in the white blanket.

A month has passed since the circus went on hiatus. They’ve stayed out of the limelight, hiding out along the less traveled railroads around the country near the woods, as far away from civilization as possible. The crew and performers had worked day and night revamping their promotions and acts, and finally, they re-debuted with new tricks and new costumes, under the new name _ Cirque des Chéris_. 

Now, they’re in the holiday seasons, and the days count down to the new year. They sell tickets quickly, and it’s a full house every night since they started their shows again. Families excitedly enter the tent, multicolored lights strung across the fabric walls to add a festive mood. The perfect holiday gift.

“It’s snowing,” Chenle calls out, twirling in circles with his arms out, head tilted up towards the sky to welcome the precipitation. Jisung stands idly beside him with his tongue sticking out to try to catch the incoming snowflakes.

Mark waits as Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun hop out, one by one to follow the youngest two. He exits last, lingering by the doorway for a moment. He watches as Jeno and Jaemin stumble against each other, giggling, and Renjun walk toward Lucas, the taller also exiting from his own car next door, wrapped in a thick coat.

The grass is covered in frost and fresh-fallen snow, still pristinely white and untrampled. The scene looks like something straight out of that little antique snow globe Jaehyun keeps on Doyoung’s shelf. The snow sprinkles over the rocks and naked tree branches like powdered sugar, and with the lights Jungwoo has draped all over the train, ornament-shaped bulbs inside their rooms and along the overhang outside, Mark thinks it’s quite a lovely way to celebrate.

Mark jumps out of the train, marveling in the soft crunch that sounds as his feet meet the snow. He holds a hand out. Snowflakes fall to his palm and melt immediately from his body heat. He smiles to himself as he walks toward where the rest of his car mates are starting to grab fistfuls of snow to toss at each other.

He squats down to form a packed ball in his hand too, before winding his arm back to chuck the snowball at the nearest target.

Jaemin lets out an offended yelp when it hits the back of his neck, some of the pieces scattering under his shirt collar. 

“Mark Lee!” he yells, crouching to gather himself another snowball. “You’re going to pay for that!”

He watches as Jeno, by his side, also begins to form a snowball between cupped hands. 

“Are you teaming up on me?” Mark calls back, feigning offense.

“I thought we said no teams!” Chenle shouts at the scheming pair. “If there are, then Jisung’s on my team!” He latches onto Jisung’s arm, jerking him towards his side for good measure.

It’s been too long since Mark’s felt even remotely as happy as he does now.

Before Jeno and Jaemin can launch their joint attack on Mark however, he feels the bitter cold at the back of his neck, the impact of another ball being thrown at him. He shudders, already regretting not putting on his thicker winter coat like he debated he would get before leaving the car. 

Mark turns to look for the culprit. He spots Lucas trying to hide behind Renjun’s far smaller figure. One look at his hands dusted with bits of snow tells Mark what he suspected.

“I’m going to get you too!” Mark hollers at Lucas, who peeks his head out by latching his chin onto Renjun’s shoulder. He quirks the corners of his lips up in the famous Cheshire grin, but Mark sends Lucas a pointed look before he can even try to use his magic. Then, Mark shakes his arms out to try and get the melted snow off of him the best he can. It still leaves him shivering, and he mumbles, “After I grab a jacket…”

He makes his way back to his car, the door still open as he had left it. On the way, he sees Jaehyun and Doyoung hop out of their shared car closest to the locomotive in a fit of laughter, bundled up in their overcoats.

Mark smiles to himself at that, before ducking into his own wagon.

It’s almost eerily quiet as he enters, more than it should be. He knows there’s no one in here, but it’s silent, absolutely silent. If he were to try to twitch his arm, just slightly, he thinks he would be able to hear the movement.

Then, he hears some rushed shuffling.

He takes a few tentative, slow steps towards the noise, which seems to be coming from his own sectioned-off room. 

Mark pulls open the divider to face his room, only to find himself not alone like he thought he was. 

“Haechan.”

Haechan’s hand is tucked in one of his old drawers, and whatever it is he’s looking for, his fingers curl around it. He holds his hands behind his back and tries to smile at Mark when he spins around. 

“Hello.”

Mark’s mouth opens and closes, words pushing at his throat only to be blocked by his pursed lips. He takes another step closer, into the room, toward Haechan.

He shouldn’t have been able to come back and find them so easily. The circus tries so hard to stay off the grid, with or without the bounty on their heads. But Mark admits that he knows how Haechan has returned, because it’s the same force that always brought him back to the circus after his night escapades, back to his home every time he wanted to leave.

Mark looks down at the four-point star etched in black ink on his finger, the North Star that guides them all back.

“What are you doing here?”

Haechan’s eyes wander to the side, glancing at where his own bed used to lay, now an empty spot, not yet repurposed, then to the drawer behind him. His hand, holding whatever little thing he took, tightens. “I left some belongings behind.”

Mutely, Mark nods and heads to his own bed. As he lies down, back propped against his pillows, he picks up the book he was reading earlier that week and thumbs through the first couple of pages as he sits, completely forgoing the overcoat folded on top of his trunk. “Alright.”

Silence follows, except for the sound of papers rustling. Mark’s not even reading, just forcing his eyes to scan across the page. For show, as it has always been between them, apparently. 

He would give anything to be outside again, in the snow playing, having the time of his life with the friends he calls his brothers. He shouldn’t have come back. There’s a million ways this could have gone, and half of them could have resulted in Mark not having to see Haechan again for the rest of his life.

Haechan doesn’t move. Out of the corner of his eyes, Mark sees Haechan’s hands fiddle with the trinket, gold reflecting on its surface as it twists around in his hands.

“Mark, I’m sorry.”

Mark lifts his head, and that’s when he feels the sheen of tears in his own eyes. He doesn’t want to cry. If he does, then all of his resolve would melt behind his icy cold demeanor. It feels like the very first time, when they met just months ago, all over again. The sun and his moon had once met, but now return to their opposing sides, where they belong. Must be fate.

Mark’s words finally spill out of his mouth. “Was any of it real?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, but Mark isn’t sure from who. Haechan’s head snaps up and he meets Mark’s eyes. He blurs in Mark’s vision, a faceless, shapeless figure.

“Was any of it real?” Mark repeats.

“Mark…”

“No, Haechan, please. Spare me one more truth. I think I deserve at least that much from you.”

“Donghyuck,” Haechan says. “Call me Donghyuck. That’s my real name.”

“I don’t _ know _what’s real about you anymore. Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you lied about your singing. Remember that night?” Mark is laughing now, but there’s no humor to it. “You told me that you’ve never sung with your real voice in front of the circus or the show before, and that I was the only one to have heard you. The real you.”

“That’s true—”

“Can I even believe what you’re saying now? Maybe you’ve never even spoken to me with your real voice. I wouldn’t know.” Mark bites at the inside of his cheek, face twisting into something unreadable. “It seems that you can just lie straight to my face.”

Haechan twists his hand into his shirt. “This is me you’re talking to. This is who I am.”

“I doubt it.”

“This is the _ truth _, Mark. You just can’t make yourself believe it.”

“Then we have a problem on our hands, don’t we?” Mark narrows his eyes at Haechan. “A liar and a disbeliever.”

It’s like time has reverted itself, a grandfather clock whose antique hands suddenly have halted and have begun to twist backward, gaining speed as it turns counterclockwise. Suddenly, they’ve become the two entities of the Mark and Haechan that first met more than a year ago. Two, distant opposites that by some miracle, found solace within each other at one point in their lives. But that solace has been burnt to ashes, leaving them yet again without an ounce of empathy for each other.

Mark drops his book and moves to sit on the edge of his thin mattress, shifting to face Haechan completely. He grounds both feet on the wooden floorboards of the train.

“As a parting gift, Haechan, leave me with something that isn’t a lie.”

“Mark, they weren’t all lies.”

“But there were some when there shouldn’t have been any.”

Haechan can’t even bring himself to properly respond to that. Instead, he closes his mouth and tenses his jaw.

Mark stares at him with stone eyes, a wall that’s being built in real-time, permanently sheltering him away from Haechan. “Tell me. Did you ever even love me?”

Once upon a time, their gazes filled with wildfire but were harvested by love to create warmth, a fireplace in a loving home that they have always wished to have. All Mark sees now is a cold, hard gaze, and that’s what breaks him. A tear falls.

Donghyuck’s voice doesn't crack when he gives his final response. “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> A long year and a bit more… Lots of highs and lows, both in real life and in this story. It’s been a pleasure to dedicate myself to this world, to the characters and the plot, to mold them from nothing and create this monster and beauty of a story. Thank you to everyone who stuck around with the updates (however inconsistent they may have been), and to the new readers, I hope you enjoyed this story. And of course, thanks to my co-author, for without her, this story would cease to exist. 
> 
> Much love,  
Cynthia (johnshuaa)
> 
> Well, who would’ve known that when I first proposed this story a year and a half ago that we would end up here? It’s been a wild ride building this story and this world from the ground up, and I’m so glad we got to share it with so many people. Thank you to everyone who has been with us since the very beginning, who has joined us sometime in the middle, and who are reading this now after it’s been completed. And the biggest thank you to my co-author/best friend for pushing me to write my first story. We can’t wait to see you all again.
> 
> Lots of love and magic,  
Sher (ohcanadaman)
> 
> And the big announcement:
> 
> As some of you may have noticed, Ringmaster is now part of a series, which means… *drumroll* there will be shorts and a sequel coming in the future! Please make sure to subscribe to the series or follow us on Twitter for updates. Thank you for sticking with us for so long, and we can’t wait to share more of this world with you!

**Author's Note:**

> find us on  
[twitter (johnshuaa)](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
[twitter (ohcanadaman)](https://twitter.com/ohcanadaman)  
[twitter (joint)](https://twitter.com/johncanadaman)  
[curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)  
[character profiles (the ringmaster carrd)](https://theringmaster.carrd.co/)  
[official spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6wR8vufsZ6CFCkLGaSrxQa?si=1Cr7CB-3QZS7-PnXjvWLqg)  



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